
tea J )fK(p 'l$ 



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A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



A 



SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



M. C. TURNER, 



OF THE INNER TEMPLE, ESQ., BARR1STER-AT-LAK 



"Than longen folk to gon on pilgrimages." 

Chaucer. 



LONDON: 
W. WALKER, 196, STRAND 

1857. 



5^\ 



oa 






5To tije 
REV. JEN KIN JONES 

OP STREATHAM, SURREY 

AND THE 

REV. JOSIAH WALKER, 

'IOAR OF WOODDITTON, NEAR NEWMARKET, CAMBRIDGESHIRE, AND FORMERLY OP 
THE NEIGHBOURING PARISH OF STETCHWORTH, 

THESE 

i6 S TET 3E 3B IS "ST MI IS M ©IB II 3E S " . 

ARE DEDICATED, 

BY 
THEIR ONCE GRACELESS PUPIL, AND NOW GRATEFUL FRIEND, 

TYE TURNER. 



PREFACE. 

■ 

"I want a preface — an uncommon want," 

my publisher insists on one, and the printer 's 

waiting. A preface, I believe, was given to man 

to disguise his motives. Be that as it may, I 

beg most unequivocally to state, that my only 

inducement in publishing these trifling pages, is 

the hope that their perusal may prevail on others 

to ramble along our route, and behold for themselves 

the quiet loveliness which is lying almost at their 

doors, and, 

" Casting to all the liberal air 
The dust, and din, and steam of town," 

employ and enjoy a fortnight in the same manner, 

and with the same satisfaction, as self and friends. 

M. C. T. 

Hall Staircase, Inner Temple, 
May nth, 1857. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I. 
Introductory — The Idea started — Preparations — 

Dramatis Persons — We start Ourselves * 1 

CHAPTER II. 
From London to Boxhill — Ewell — Leatherhead — 
" Elynour Rummynge" — A Sporting Companion — 
"The Hare and Hounds," and "The Beehive," 
Boxhill 14 

CHAPTER III. 
A Country Breakfast— Boxhill and its Neighbour- 
hood—A Little Breeze — The Denbies — A Visit 
prom Benedict 27 

CHAPTER IV. 
"The Prevailing Epidemic" — "Save me prom my 
Friends" — Dorking — Cold Harbour — A Wayside 
Inn — Leith Hill — Holmesdale 40 

CHAPTER V. 
Ockley — An Evening Ramble— Ned's "certain cure" 
for the Cholera — A Country Shop— Cranley — 
Hascombe — Whitley — A Rustic Concert 5 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 
Which is the Way ? — A Wayside School — The 
Devil's Punchbowl — Haslemere— Our First Sun- 
day — What Next ? 70 

CHAPTER VII. 
An "Episode" — Liphook — A Young Traveller — Bram- 
shott Churchyard — Our Nag-boy Friends — A Fop 
in the Country — A Treeless Forest and an Empty 
Pond — A New Acquaintance— " What's that?" 
again — Arrival at Selborne 83 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Selborne— First Impressions — The Church — In Me- 
moriam — The Hanger — The Dinner — "Which Part 
do you Prefer?" — White's House and Grounds — 
The Priory 110 

CHAPTER IX. 

A Severe Loss — "A Nicht wi' Tarvar" — The Hanger 
— Exit Tarvar — The Pleystow — Crisis op Ned's 
White Fever — The Departure 130 

CHAPTER X. 

Ned's Prophecy — "My Uncle's" First Discomfiture 
— A Swindling Chemist — Tye's Discomfiture — 
Mr. Bang in his Original Character of " The 
Englishman" — Ned caught Tripping — Bentley — 
"My Uncle's" Second Discomfiture — "My 
Uncle's" Third Discomfiture — Remarks on our 
Route — Ned's Great Discomfiture .'. , 147 



CONTENTS. XI 

CHAPTER XI. 
Farnham Church — An Awful Announcement — The 
Birthplace op Cobbett — The Hog's Back — Cob- 
bett's Education Place — The Prevailing Epi- 
demic — A Political Celebrity, and a Hearty 
Welcome — Guildford— St. Martha's Chapel 168 

CHAPTER XII. 
Mr. Oastler 1 s Trial for Libel — St. Catherine's Hill 
— Ned loses a Bet — Lowesley Park — Cobbett's 
Description of the Road from Godalming to 
Guildford — Godalming— The Cricket Field — Cob- 
bett's Account of Guildford — Fare thee well, 
"Old King "—Cobbett and Oastler 185 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Albury — Shiere — Wotton — Dorking again — Great 
Bookham and its Church — "The Saracen and 
Ring" — A Terrible Night — The Village Maid — 
Epitaphs — "The Bear" at Esher— One of the 
Swell Mob 200 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Our Last Evening — "My Uncle's" Observations — 

Ned's Grand Speech — Tye's Address — Farewell... 220 

Sonnet by Ned 235 

Topographical Index 230 



A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



CHAPTER I. 

Introductory — The Idea started — Preparations — Dramatis 
Persons — We start Ourselves. 

The late eminent and erudite Judge Talfourd was 
wont, under the title of " Vacation Rambles," to 
favour an admiring world with pleasant sketches of 
sunny lands, whither he had wandered during the 
happy " Long," the beautiful scenery he had passed 
through, the varied incidents on his route, the 
peculiarities and idiosyncracies of his fellow-travel- 
lers; and last — though very far from least — the 
component excellencies of his daily dinner. It is 
my intention, following his bright example — though, 
be it said in all modesty, at an immeasurable dis- 
tance — to chronicle,, while they are yet vivid and 
green in my mind, -some " sunny memories " of a 

B 



Z A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

pleasant ramble last vacation, through the lovely 
villages and over the famous hills of sylvan Surrey. 
I purpose to present an account of the little 
pedestrian experiences of, as Cardinal Wolsey would 
have said, " myself and a couple of friends." I 
shall trace the course of our wanderings, from their 
unpromising commencement at the Golden Cross, to 
their successful termination at Waterloo Bridge. I 
shall relate how we equipped ourselves for the jour- 
ney, and were prepared for any emergency that 
might occur ; how we were received in the different 

localities we honoured with our flying presence, and 

* 
how we fared by the way; how the weather con- 
ducted itself ; how the crops and country appeared; 
how, in general, we greatly enjoyed ourselves ; and 
how, in particular, we had, as is the custom of 
pedestrians, a mighty quarrel, which, though patched 
up, left its shadow on the remainder of our career. 
" All this," and " much more of a similar tendency," 
I " solemnly pledge myself" to produce ; and trust 
I shall afford some amusement, not unblended with 
instruction, to such of my readers as may be enabled 



NECESSITY FOR RELAXATION. 6 

to withdraw their thoughts for a time from " the 
storm in the teapot," and give their undivided 
attention to our peaceful progress through country 
lanes and hamlets. 

It was one day towards the end of July, that, 
sitting with my friend Seward, discussing our usual 
meridional biscuit, on a bench in the Inner Temple 
Gardens — Faraday hadn't, at that date, left his card 
on Old Father Thames, and there were no extra- 
ordinary sanitary reasons for avoiding that favourite 
rendezvous of idle students and pretty nursemaids — 
we had some earnest conversation about holiday- 
making. It was a necessity apparent to the weakest 
intellect, that, after our superhuman exertions in 
our respective departments for the previous ten 
months, like Longfellow's barrister : — 

" Through long days of watching, 
And nights devoid of ease," 

some relaxation was a sine qua non — a mouthful of 
fresh air for corporeal invigoration and preparation 
for the winter campaign, and a change of scene, and 
variety in pursuits, to give relief and an impetus to 

b2 



4 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

the mind — ilmt we are quite agreed on. We were 
also agreed that a certain middle-aged bachelor, 
whom I will call Mr. Bang, of a knowing exterior, 
and a shrewd intellect, an old sporting man, and 
a red-hot Protestant churchman — in a word, my 
friend's " Uncle " — should accompany us. But a 
most important matter, and upon which we couldn't 
agree at all, was the " venue " where our holiday 
was to be laid ; and, after many suggestions, and as 
many rejections, we at length determined to drop 
into tea with " My Uncle " that evening at Isling- 
ton, and have his opinion and casting vote. Accord- 
ingly, when our day's labour was over — which 
means when we had been sitting in chambers till 
five o'clock, listening anxiously for the footfall of 
some enlightened attorney, who would persist in 
coming not, and leaving us to the cheering society 
of our beating hearts, and " Fearne on Remain- 
ders" — we turned our steps to Oakhill Cottage, 
and arrived there at the identical moment that the 
worthy gentleman was settling himself to the dis- 
cussion of his evening meal. Before him lay a 



IMPORTANT CONSIDERATIONS. O 

mutton chop; beside him the current number of 
the " Bulwark." He had just been perusing the 
latter; and was pitching into the former with as 
much zest as if it had been Cardinal Wiseman him- 
self! He was rejoiced to see us. He would have 
up some more chops, and eggs, and muffins ; and 
then he thought, with the aid of cake, brown bread, 
and a good cup of coffee, we should make a tolerable 
" tea." Justice having been cheerfully rendered to 
this magnificent spread, having discussed the pro- 
spects of the war, the harvest, the weather, and the 
Great Protestant Cause, we ranged ourselves round 
the table, and, under the genial influence of some 
hot brandy-and-water, proceeded to the considera- 
tion of the question that was, pro tern., more mo- 
mentous than any of them. 

I must premise that two important considera- 
tions — time and money — put a veto on an unlimited 
tour. We had not " all the world before us where to 
choose." Seward and I had fixed that later in the 
autumn we would foot it to " Farthest Cornwall's 
Rocky Shore," which would necessitate a pretty 



A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

considerable draw on an exchequer by no means 
overflowing at any time. A trip to Paris, an ex- 
pedition to the " Monarch of Mountains," a tour in 
the Highlands or "up the Rhine," were therefore 
no sooner proposed than negatived, as involving not 
only too great expenditure in themselves, but like- 
wise irresistible temptations to outlay beyond the 
legitimate cost of travel ; but at the same time, the 
whole of golden August could not be spent in the 
deserted Temple, perambulating the glaring pave- 
ments of Pall-mall and Regent-street, or screwing 
the utmost out of the Crystal Palace Company by 
the daily presentation of our season tickets : " some- 
thing must be done." At last, after much discus- 
sion, and when the meeting was at the point of 
separating without having come to any arrange- 
ment, an idea occurred to friend Ned, which was 
one so naturally to be expected from him, that we 
were amused at its arrival so late in the day. Ned 
is an enthusiastic lover of the country, " 'a babbles 
of green fields," in season and out of season on his 
Sunday excursions ; and during the perusal of the 



NED S IDEA. / 

stiffest abstract, he is always referring to a deeply* 
seated anticipation of the time when he 

" the fields and meadows green may view, 

And daily by fresh rivers roam at will." 

In other words, hinting at that "snug box" in 
some* agricultural country, which, at the commence- 
ment of business, human nature generally fixes on 
as the result of a laborious and profitable career— 
the consummation most devoutly to be wished — the 
goal most determinedly and perseveringly to be 
attained. Well, the idea which, better late than 
never, struck our bucolic friend, and was no sooner 
promulgated than acquiesced in, was the exploring 
that usually neglected locality, the country imme- 
diately around us ; and that, getting a few necessa- 
ries together, we should, each with " a knapsack and 
a cheerful heart," sally forth on the 15th of August, 
and wander about for a good fortnight o'er the hills 
and dales of Surrey, managing so that we might 
penetrate as far as Selbourne, in Hampshire, where 
he might perform a long- vowed pilgrimage to the 
tomb of Gilbert "White. This suggestion being 



8 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

carried, as I have said, nem. con., and a few pre- 
liminaries arranged as to what should be the maxi- 
mum of our contributions, what we should take 
with us, and an equalisation of the responsibilities 
attached to a successful performance of our expedi- 
tion, the meeting was immediately broken up, and 
it being a lovely night, Ned and I buttoned our 
coats, and to make amends for our confinement 
all day in the Temple, walked home to Norwood, 
Ned eloquent on the charms of rural scenery, and 
prolific in quotations from the old poets on the 
felicities of a country existence. 

Our leisure in the interval between the adoption 
of the plan and the starting day (an earlier than the 
15th could not be fixed, as on the morning of that 
day Ned had to ofiiciate at the wedding of a cousin 
— of whom more anon), was employed in making 
preparations on a most condensed scale — the midtum 
in parvo principle ; but we heard nothing of the 
proceedings of Mr. Bang, save some indistinct 
rumours respecting an umbrella and a mammoth 
portmanteau. It was settled that Ned should be 



POSTS ALLOTTED. \) 

our Chancellor of the Exchequer, holder of the 
ordnance map, and arbitrator of our route ; " My 
Uncle," the superintendent of the commissariat 
department (the duties of which arduous post I may 
take this opportunity of stating he performed in a 
highly satisfactory manner) ; whilst myself should 
be installed in the high dignity of keeper of the 
journal, with a view to our future immortalisation 
in the literature of our country. Ned read away 
indefatigably every evening at "White's Selbourne," 
and " Rambles by Rivers," and I, with equal zeal, 
made myself master of those portions of " Camden's 
Britannia," and " Lewis's Topography," which 
bore on the localities we were bound to. 

And so, with our knapsacks well stocked with 
corporeal necessaries, and our minds well up in the 
history and antiquities of the county, we all met on 
the afternoon of Tuesday, August the 15 th, at the 
Golden Cross coach-office in the Strand. And this 
may be a good point to introduce my travelling 
companions and self to the reader in a regular way. 
To commence with Mr. Bang, as the senior : he is 



10 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

in his personal appearance something like the Mar- 
quis of Granby — I mean the present one, not him 
of signboard notoriety — only not quite so tall, and 
stouter; he is of a dark complexion, nose slightly 
aquiline, and sports a pair of thick, ferocious- 
looking, black whiskers, reaching to the chin, with 
the fag end of a moustache at the corners of his 
mouth ; he has likewise — but in this he differs from 
the Marquis — a great impediment in his speech, 
but which somehow doesn't prevent his being 
always talking. His conversation, by the way 
(consisting chiefly of anti-popery tirades and sport- 
ing reminiscences), is plentifully interlarded with 
sentiments and truisms, and may be described gene- 
rally as " epigrammatic." Lastly, he has four great 
hobbies, one or all of them as safe to turn up in 
any given period as the "umbrella" itself: he 
thinks no view of any description perfect in which 
"water" is not the most conspicuous element; he 
abominates "men-waiters;" he hates the Pope as 
he hates the devil; and, above all, he prides him- 
self on his privileges and duties as an Englishman. 



A ROUGH DIAMOND. 11 

We found him equipped in a black shooting-coat, 
brown trowsers, a blue cravat, and a white hat 
with a black band. The story of the portmanteau 
turned out a gross libel; he had a small black 
leather bag, and the umbrella — he was never 
known to go a yard without his umbrella; he had 
also a heavy blue cloth cape, which he purposed 
sending on in fine weather to the next stage, by such 
sturdy, trustworthy chawbacon as our host for the 
time being might conscientiously recommend; he 
was in the highest spirits, and professed himself 
equal to anything. 

" Ned " is outwardly a very rough diamond 
indeed : though in character one of the most 
amiable and kind-hearted of beings, at the same 
time he is obstinate and self-willed to a degree. 
His rural inclinations I have already referred to. 
He was attired in a venerable gray shooting-coat, 
check trowsers, and a wide-awake, which have 
served him regularly every autumn since 1848, 
when he had first adopted them as his " holiday 
costume," they being at that date a little too shabby 



12 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

for ordinary wear, having seen three years' life in 
the office. Should the reader thence infer that he's 
" a bit of a screw," I will not argue the point ; for, 
inasmuch as he was our purseholder, there will be 
ample opportunity of deciding the question for him- 
self before we have gone many miles on our way. 
His coat, his breeches, and his hair were all cut 
very short ; but he was as happy as a prince, 
strapped on a drab knapsack, and promised himself 
a stick from the first hedge we came to. As for 
myself, modesty forbids that I speak in detail I 
naturally don't consider myself as remarkably plain 
in appearance or eccentric in manner; and though 
popularly regarded as having very long hair, and a 
very hot temper, as being somewhat "cracked" in 
the upper regions, and holding singular and original 
opinions on everything and everybody, I always 
have and will set an indignant protest against so 
very partial a description. On the present occasion 
I made my appearance in what Ned was pleased to 
call a "gorgeous array;" it consisted of a pair of 
gray trowsers, a blue coat and vest, a bit of lilac 



WAITING FOR THE 'BUS. 13 

riband round my neck, and a blue flannel cap sat 
rather jauntily, may be, on one side of my head. 
My knapsack was of a shiny black material 
bound with narrow red edges, which, although it 
looked a very flimsy affair (as, according to Ned, its 
owner did too), has yet stood good service, having 
been nearly all over England, and is as good as new 
now. I had a stick which has accompanied the 
knapsack on its travels, and a pair of laced boots, 
most uncommonly thick, and extraordinarily un- 
comfortable, but which I had been informed on 
high authority were the " correct thing " for pedes- 
trians. Such, so equipped, and so provided — I 
should not omit to state that Ned was the holder of 
£15 on a joint account, and that we each had a 
guinea in our pockets for " extras " and " et 
ceteras" — were we travellers three, and we were 
waiting at the Golden Cross for the arrival of the 
Leatherhead omnibus, preferring by that means to 
escape as quickly as we could from Cockney 
suburbs, and get at once to the open country. 



CHAPTER II. 

From London to Boxhill — Ewell — Leatherhead— "Ely- 

NOT7R RuMMTNGe" — A SPORTING COMPANION — "THE HARE 

and Hounds," and "The Beehive," Boxhill. 
It stands upon record in "The Journal" that the 
weather which, the whole of that morning, and 
indeed for some days previously, had been all that 
could be desired, began about three to give unequi- 
vocal symptoms of a change ; the pleasant breeze 
grew too boisterous to be pleasant, and lowering 
clouds rolled blackly o'er our heads. Said Ned, 
" So foul a sky clears not without a storm," and 
having no protection against the elements, having 
purposely left our waterproofs behind, as only in- 
cumbrances in fine weather, and even when wet 
but doubtful boons to a pedestrian from their non- 
ventilating qualities, we began to have uncomfortable 
forebodings as to our condition when deposited at 
Leatherhead, and envious feelings towards "My 
Uncle," apropos of his heavy cape. Friend Ned is 



SUNSHINE AND SHOWERS. 15 

a cautious youth, and never makes a prophecy or a 
bet till he's pretty sure of the event, and the present 
was no exception to his general correctness, and 
" Ife" and "Buts," and hopes and fears, were effec- 
tually silenced at the moment of our mounting the 
'bus by a most unmistakable storm, which, under 
the circumstances, would have been a regular 
damper, had we not succeeded in obtaining from 
coachee a very gorgeous and capacious rug, under 
whose ample folds we bid defiance to its fury, and 
after an intermittent course of sunshine and heavy 
showers, emerged therefrom at our destination dry 
as corks, and anything but " victims of a misplaced 
confidence." 

Our road lay through Lambeth, Clapham, Ewell, 
and Epsom to Leatherhead ; a very pretty tract of 
country, when you have got beyond the suburbs, but 
which the pelting rain in our faces prevented our 
properly appreciating. Mr. Bang disappeared from 
the scene at an early period beneath the collar of 
his cape, from which strong ejaculations were fre- 
quently audible, the burden of which was that he 



16 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

wasn't quite so young as he had been — that he 
hadn't expected this sort of thing — that he wasn't 
altogether sure he didn't regret having embarked on 
the cruise — and that if matters didn't improve he 
should return to Islington the next day. For my- 
self, I was partially of his opinion, for Ned persisted 
in folding the rug in " the correct manner," and as 
a consequence, I was far from jovially inclined till 
we got to Ewell (or Yool, as it is pronounced), where 
we changed horses ; and where I descended for the 
purpose of investing in a refresher, and on remount- 
ing managed a more equitable adjustment. While 
going along the Clapham-road, I contrived, at great 
bodily inconvenience, to catch a glimpse of a couple 
of pretty cousins domiciled in that neighbourhood ; 
and when passing the well-known school — Mr. 
Jones' — where I had spent five of the happy years 
gone by, I gave the blue cap a frantic whirl, and 
doubtless impressed my successors at that excellent 
seminary, with an idea that I was a gentleman 
either not particularly strong in the head, or who 
had been imbibing an undue quantity of something 



LAYING DOWN THE LAW. 17 

too strong for it ; with these two exceptions, I did 
not obtrude on public notice. But as on our arrival 
at Ewell, the sun came out, and everything looked 
delightfully fresh after the rain, we caught the 
infection, and became all at once remarkably cheer- 
ful and communicative ; not but what Ned had been 
thoroughly enjoying himself all along — wet or dry, 
sunshine or storm, is all one to him, provided he is 
in the country "Tasting the sweets the season 
brings," free to roam at his pleasure, and with no 
prospect of a speedy return to the city — and he had 
been at pains to inform me at intervals that he con- 
sidered it, as far as we had gone, " a great success" 
— that " There was a pleasure in this did I know" 
— that it was, in fact, " superb," " charming," and 
all the rest of it. Here he dismounted, poked about 
the yard, peeped over the fences, and had an ani- 
mated conversation with a small " Nag-boy." He 
declined having a glass, and laid down the law most 
rigorously, that all such creature comforts, inde- 
pendent of regular meals, were to be "extras" (he 
himself never drinking anything stronger than 

c 



18 A SAUNTER THROUH SURREY. 

"Adam's ale"), and defrayed out of our private 
means. " My Uncle" likewise emerged from the 
heavy cajDe, and got down to stretch his legs, ogle 
the barmaid, and criticise the team. Having re- 
sumed our seats we (that is Mr. Bang and myself, 
for Ned has no eye for any beauty but the inani- 
mate) observed a very merry party in the long room 
of the inn, consisting of a jovial old gentleman and 
five or six young ladies, who, without any flattery 
I may say, were extremely pretty; and as we drove 
off, and were persuaded of the inability of the old 
party to pursue us, we kissed our hands and waved 
the blue cap most gallantly, and were rewarded as 
we turned a corner in the road by the blissful sight 
of half a dozen handkerchiefs fluttering against the 
window panes. 

Nothing of moment occurred during the re- 
mainder of our drive. We passed the town of 
Epsom, which presented rather an unfavourable 
contrast to its appearance (Ned dissentiente) when 
we were last there — on the Derby day; and if 
anything, looked, for that reason, perhaps a trifle 
slower, duller, and more uninteresting than the 



ELYNOUR RUMMYNGE. 19 

generality of country towns ; and somewhere about 
seven p.m. pulled up at the chief inn at Leather- 
head. Leatherhead is a quiet town, long, dreamy, 
and irregular, with a fine old church (it was partially 
rebuilt in 1346), with a lofty, massive tower. Hard 
by the bridge is a public-house, either the same 
building as, or a restoration of, a famous tavern in 
days gone by. And Ned, who is a great antiqua- 
rian, and learned and voluble in the unpronounce- 
able poetry of the period, vouchsafed us the infor- 
mation that when the Court of Henry VIII. was 
frequently kept at the Palace of Nonesuch, some 
six miles off, the then poet laureate, Skelton, with 
other courtiers, ofttimes came to Leatherhead for 
the amusement of fishing in the river Mole, and 
were made welcome at the Cabaret of " Elynour 
Eummynge." He then went off glibly for about 
ten minutes with a very rummy rigmarole of the 
aforesaid Skelton, descriptive of the said " Elynour," 
" at home in her wonnynge " : — 

i( In a certain stede 
Byside Lederhede," 

c2 



20 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

Where she brewed " noppy ale," 

" And all good ale drynkers 
That wyll nothynge spare, 
But drynke till they stare, 
And brynge themselves bare," 
Were for ever 

" With all thyr myght runuynge 
To Elynour Rummynge 
To have of her tonnynge." 

But I fear me, when he left off, as he did finally, 
to our great surprise, from want of breath, we had 
no very clear idea of " the comely dame." He was 
anxious I should transfer the laureate's effusion 
entire to my journal ; but Mr. Bang, expressing a 
hope that "difference of opinion might never alter 
friendship," entreated that I wouldn't, and so I de- 
clined, with many thanks ; and the reader can have 
no conception of what my persistency has spared him. 

The rain had by this time given over, and it was 

a beautiful evening ; all things rejoiced beneath 

the setting sun — 

" The weeds, 
The river, and the corn fields,, and the reeds ; 
The willow leaves that glanced in the light breeze, 
And the firm foliage of the larger trees ; " 



SURREY BEER. 21 

and so giving coachee an extra remembrance for his 
timely loan of the rug, and buckling on our knap- 
sacks, we commenced our tour in Surrey by starting 
for " The Beehive," at Boxhill, distant four miles, 
accompanied by a fellow-traveller by the 'bus, who 
was bound for Dorking, a mile further. His name 
we did not learn ; it might have been Sponge, was 
possibly Nimrod, but more probably Brown. He 
was a gentleman of a sporting turn of mind, and 
initiated us into the hunting, shooting, and sporting 
miscellany generally of the county. He was just 
the sort for Mr. Bang, and completely restored the 
serenity of our worthy relative's spirits ; and the 
stories they vied with each other in recounting of 
famous cross-country feats, desperate runs, and hazard- 
ous leaps, were almost as good as a leaf from " Mr. 
Jorrock's Hunt." In the course of conversation 
it transpired that he was "in Barclay's Brewery;" 
and we obtained the important information that the 
beer usually consumed in Surrey was very yeasty 
and new — rarely more than four days old, and, as a 
rule, brewed on the premises, a copious imbibing of 



22 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

which is followed, as a natural consequence of the 
preponderating presence of yeast, by a decided infla- 
tion or puffing out of the stomach, " which," paren- 
thetically remarked Mr. Bang, " which, sir, I rather 
prefer." He also informed us of the intensely 
interesting fact (this for my fair readers), that on 
the occasion of the visit of Jenny Lind to his prin- 
cipal's establishment he had himself conducted her 
round it, and having offered her a pint of extra 
strong — in fact, their, very strongest " stout " — the 
Nightingale accepted it, tossed it off like any dray- 
man, followed up the feat by a jug-jug for more, and 
actually accomplished another half-joint ! 

Arrived at " The Beehive," which we reached 
about eight, we parted from our amusing confrere, 
and forthwith composed ourselves to a " heavy tea." 
Ned had written to our host previously, engaging 
beds for this the first night, fearing that "My 
Uncle " would become unmanageable were there no 
room ; and after poking about the precincts of the 
inn, getting up the geography of our respective 
apartments, and tracing on the ordnance map 



PREPARED FOR THE WORST. 23 

our course during the day's journey, and settling 
that of the morrow, we betook ourselves to rest. 

Our first night passed extremely well ; the rooms 
were comfortable, and the beds capital. For the 
first time in my experience, I found my knapsack 
was minus no indispensable article. There was 
great comfort in that discovery; for, being very 
particular, there are countless little odds and ends 
I wouldn't go a mile without; and though their 
presence was a source of great amusement to Ned 
and " My Uncle," their absence would have been 
no joke to myself. The cholera happened to be 
very bad in my neighbourhood ; and as I con- 
ceived the possibility of its paying me a visit, and 
had no great faith in the pharmacopceia of village 
chemists, I was prepared accordingly; and not for 
that malady only, but for divers other ills that flesh, 
especially travelling flesh, is heir to. I had, inter 
alia, a small phial of quinine, ditto of hartshorn 
and oil, two ditto of spirits of camphor, a packet 
of gum, and a small box of elder ointment ; and 
altogether felt tolerably secure. Ned— the sarcastic 



24 - A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

dog ! — likened my knapsack to the conjuror's inex- 
haustible bottle ; and Mr. Bang was certain, and 
requested me to " mark his words," that they would 
have to bury me before we reached Selbourne. 

The next morning Ned and I rose, as we deter- 
mined to do regularly, at six, and sallied forth to 
" court the fresh air, explore the heaths and woods," 
and gain an appetite for breakfast. " My Uncle" 
had announced his intention over night of being 
down at nine, and had ordered breakfast for that 
hour. " He wasn't so young as he had been;" and 
required longer rest than we youngsters. More- 
over, he " never could sleep a wink " out of his 
own bed ; and when on an expedition to Chamounix 
last summer with a party of friends, and when he 
was away from home six weeks, " he hadn't known 
what it was to shut his eyes." We, therefore, had 
fears of his being very grumpy when he came down, 
and that he would be firmer than ever in another of 
his determinations, of only walking five miles a 
day; and so we thought we'd have a good run 
while we were about it. It was a beautiful morn- 



THE HONEYMOON INN. 25 

ing ; and we made our way to the summit of Box- 
hill, ascending by a narrow pathway in the rear of 
" the Hare and Hounds." "We had a delightful 
ramble, though the top was rather misty ; and de- 
cided on going up again later in the day with " My 
Uncle," provided fye felt himself equal to it. This 
" Hare and Hounds " is a superior inn to the 
" Beehive," charmingly situate at the foot of the 
hill, with a very pretty garden, and numerous 
grottos and arbours. It is a favourite resort of 
picnic parties, and a well-known house altogether ; 
and under ordinary circumstances we should havt 
gone there, but as they were extraordinary, we 
didn't : and I must say we were extremely com- 
fortable, and had no desire to change. But the inn 
is more generally known by its sovhriquet of " The 
Honeymoon Inn/' and at that very moment it 
held beneath its hymeneal roof Ned's cousin, Mr. 
Deeds, and his newly married wife ; and it was 
from having had a timely notice of their destina- 
tion that we had written to secure apartments at 
" The Beehive." Of course, under the circum- 



26 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

stances of the case, we avoided coming in contact 
with them. For my own part, on such an occa- 
sion, I should not prefer putting up at a professed 
house of entertainment for the newly- wedded ; 
should have gone in quite another direction ; 

should have ; but as I am not married, and 

though many a maid " smiles sweetly on me," 
still having my doubts whether their intentions 
are honourable, I will not enter into any antici- 
patory speculations as to my proceedings on so 
hypothetical a contingency. Nearing the inn on 
our return, we observed standing in the middle of 
the road, with his legs wide apart, his hat over his 
eyes, and busily engaged in paring his nails, the 
unmistakable figure of " My Uncle ;" and every 
morning, wherever we might be located, in a village 
or a town, was the worthy gentleman visible, in 
the middle of the thoroughfare, in the same atti- 
tude, engaged in the same pursuit ! To our sur- 
prise, he was in the best of spirits ; he hadn't had 
" much sleep to speak of, certainly," but there was 
no help for that then; he welcomed us warmly, 
and hurried us at once to the breakfast table. 



CHAPTER III. 

A Country Breakfast — Boxhill and its Neighbourhood— 
A Little Breeze — The Denbies — ■ A Visit prom 
Benedict. 

" Come, sir, come," cried " My Uncle," when, having 

given, as I conceived, sufficient proof that my 

response to "the breezy call of incense-breathing 

morn " had by no means impaired my appetite, I 

was somewhat relaxing from the vigour of my 

pristine exertions — " Come, sir, come ; yon don't 

eat. Have an egg — have another slice of bacon — 

have a why, what's the good of going up Boxhill 

before breakfast, if you can't do better than this 1 ? 

Come, sir, come ; I suspect there's a woman in the 

case — how's the girl you left behind you % Come, 

sir, come — after you ! " 

" My dear sir," I replied, " you're extremely 

kind, and your anxiety for my appetite does you 

infinite credit ; but a man with his belly full is no 

great eater, and the voice of Nature is uttering a 

decided protest against your importunities ; that 



28 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

good lady, speaking with an emphasis peculiarly 
her own, says, 'Hold, enough!' and, in obeying her 
behests, I opine I shall act for the best." 

" Well, if you won't eat, you must take the con- 
sequences ; and mark my words — we shall have 
to bury you before we reach Selbourne. Now 
there's Ned there," continued Mr. Bang, with an 
amount of stuttering that was highly impressive, 
but which, for economical reasons, I refrain from 
reproducing, as the whole of the compositor's r's 
would barely suffice for half a dozen lines, and so 
render the setting up of the chapter a rather ex- 
pensive process, to say nothing of the consumption 
of so much valuable space — " there's Ned there, as 
lively as he was half an hour ago. Ned, my boy, 
have an egg. Come, sir, come ;" and Ned, nothing 
loth, took the egg; and then, as the meal was 
avowedly finished, on the principle on which he 
invariably acted, that as he paid "so much" for 
breakfast he'd "have his money's worth," delibe- 
rately poured the remainder of the cream into his 
cup, making sure of the last drop, by rinsing out 



THE PAKAGON OF MEALS. 29 

the mug with a spoonful of milk; though, to do 
him justice, I must add that he did not avail him- 
self of my suggestion of making doubly sure by 
wringing the neck of it ! 

But the truth is that on this, as on all other 
occasions, we were all much of a muchness; our 
appetites seemed to increase by what they fed 
on ; and the quantity of good things we managed 
to stow away, in sympathy with "My Uncle's" 
sentiment, "As we travel through life, may we 
live well on the road," was incredible. Of a 
verity, a breakfast in a wayside country inn is 
the paragon of meals : there is such an indescribable 
charm about the commonest viands, that one eats a 
great deal more than usual, and feels one could, 
were it not for appearances, go even further, and be 
none the worse for it. If I may parody the cele- 
brated peroration of a " great statesman" (save the 
mark !) he may there eat his home-baked loaf, 
delicious in itself, and enhanced by the concomitancy 
of fresh butter and genuine milk, and find them the 
sweeter because no longer leavened by a sense of 



30 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

"adulteration." Then there is the snow-white 
table-cloth, and the cups and saucers of various 
patterns, and unwonted shapes — the picturesque 
apartment, with its homely contrivances, and cheap 
" chimbly " ornaments, and the highly-coloured 
prints in gaudy little frames dotted over it, repre- 
senting perilous positions of adventurous sportsmen, 
exciting scenes from Holy Writ, and perhaps a 
warranted likeness by Brown of "Nancy," the 
largest cow in England, the property of Mr. Smith, 
bred by Mr. Jones, " both of this county" — the 
obliging attendant, generally a rosy little girl just 
big enough to hold the tray — and the lovely home 
view from the pleasant open casement ! 

But all good things have an end, and breakfast 
among them ; and Ned then producing his ordnance 
map, we began to reconsider our course for the day. 
After some little discussion, and ordering dinner at 
two, we sallied forth for a ramble, and first having 
ascertained that Mr. Deeds and his " sweet sweet- 
ing " had gone for a drive, we conducted Mr. Bang 
to the Honeymoon Inn, and initiated him in its 



THE DKUID'S GROVE. 31 

hymeneal mysteries. Then we walked up "West- 
humble Lane, a quiet secluded by-way, with lofty 
hedges on either side, and here and there a gnarled 
oak and wide spreading elm, and green mossy banks 
glittering and redolent with innumerable wild 
flowers, leading us at length to Norbury Park, 
Mickleham, formerly the seat of Mr. Locke, the 
friend of Fuseli, but now the property of Mr. Gris- 
sell, the eminent railway contractor, and, as the 
guide-books say, " one of the most elegant seats in 
the county." The house is a good substantial man- 
sion, the view is rich and extensive, and the grounds 
are spacious and well wooded, containing some fine 
beeches, the most "lovely of all forest trees," as 
Gilbert White calls them, and a noble group of old 
yews, known as the " Druid's Grove." (I remem- 
ber reading a description of the place by a "recent 
tourist," in which that gentleman is, it is to be sup- 
posed, through some " error of the press," made to 
exhaust his rapture and eloquence on " the noble 
group of old ewes!''') The vale of Mickleham, whose 
quiet loveliness we hence survey, is styled by many 



32 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

"the Garden of Surrey," and Sir James Mackintosh 
designated it " the Happy Valley." Perhaps, after 
quoting that eminent authority, it will be a matter 
of secondary interest what Messrs. Bang and Co. 
thought of it ; but, nevertheless, I give their spon- 
taneous and truly original remarks. " My Uncle" 
thought it was a " d — d — d — de — light — ful — sp — 
sp — spot — a -r— de — light — f — ful — sp — spot — in- 
deed — sir," but regretted the absence of "water." 
Ned averred " it was, without exception, one of the 
most lovely spots he had ever set eyes on," and 
casting off his knapsack, flung himself down on his 
back, and gazed unflinchingly at the sun for a quar- 
ter of an hour, without saying a word — a peculiar 
way he has of enjoying any view particularly 
"superb ;" and my own opinion was that it was very j 
beautiful certainly, but wanting in the chief charm f 
of rural scenery — " ex — xactly — sir — ex — xactly — f 
you mean — water — no place perfect without it — 
you're quite right, sir — give me your hand, sir — ' 
come, sir, come." 

I agreed with Mr. Bang that a sheet of water 



THE WANTING CHARM. 33 

might have materially added to the prospect, but 
yet that was not the peculiar charm I missed. "In 
fact," says I, "a pretty country girl, with a basket 

on her arm, getting over the stile there " 

" What !" shouts Ned, starting up, and bursting 
forth with indignant eloquence at the outrage on 
his purely rural feelings — " What ! is that all you've 
left Norwood to see? Has woman's beauty a 
stronger spell o'er thee than the green landscape ? — i 
then why did you come so far from Regent-street ? 
If your eyes are with your heart, and that is far 
away, why did you ever leave the neighbourhood of 
Stockwell, or relinquish the pursuit of the fair one 
to Dorsetshire ! To think I should have come to 
these pure and lovely scenes in such companion- 
ship ! Thank God every one is not a gay Lothario ! 
You may love a petticoat, while to me the quiet 
simple joys of the country are the greatest delight. 
I believe you might pass through the sublimest 
scenery in the world, and if a pretty girl didn't 
cross your path, you would think your time and 
labour thrown away. ' I hate the man,' as old 

D 



34 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. "- 

Sterne says, ' I hate the man who can travel from 
Dan to Beersheba, and say (as you would say) 'tis 
all barren.' " 

Says I, utterly unimpressed by and ignoring this 
eloquent harangue, and with a levity and noncha- 
lance as reprehensible as uncalled for — 

" Cherry-cheeked Patty she lived in the vale, 
Whom I helped o'er the stile with the milking pail, 
And she blushed as I made her promise and vow, 
Next Sunday to meet at the Barleymow." 

" Come, sirs, come," here interposed Mr. Bang, 
"we mustn't have a breeze at this early stage of our 
proceedings— come, sirs, come — niay the blossoms of 
friendship never be nipped by the frost of dissension, 
and as for ' Patty,' may that unsuspecting female 
never be deceived by the guile of deception — come, 
sirs, come!" and calling Ned's attention to the fine 
old church just visible amid the trees, with its large 
square tower, surmounted by a small peak, like the 
boss of an ancient shield, and massive double but- 
tresses at the corners, and a charming prospect of | 
the rising slopes of Norbury Park, his recollection 



THE ECCENTRIC MOLE. 3-5 

of my mal-a-propos suggestion was soon lost in his 
interest in the ancient edifice. Eventually he made 
a sketch of it; and, presenting it to me, our reconci- 
liation was complete — " My Uncle" expressing his 
sincerest hope that "the bark of friendship might 
never again founder!" 

Not far hence is " The Denbies," an estate be- 
longing to Mr. Cubitt, the builder, where, on a 
commanding situation, a palace was being erected, 
it is' believed for the royal children, Prince Albert 
being frequently down there inspecting operations, 
planting trees, and exhibiting generally his interest 
in its progress. Through the vale, by fits and starts, 
the eccentric " Mole" — a river which entirely dis- 
appears from the scene here and there, without any 
assignable reason, and presently starts up again with 
as little — " forces open a passage underground," as 
old Camden quaintly has it, "as it were some 
mole,'" and hence its name. This river has been 
almost " done to death" by the poets, which is one 
of the reasons, I believe, why so little of it remains ; 
it has had almost every adjective in the language 

d2 



36 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

applied to it, which is why I drop the subject, there 
being, in fact, nothing original to say. Presently, 
on our return, we lighted upon " Cowslip Cottage," 
where report has it that Madame D'Arblay (Miss 
Burney) wrote several of her popular novels, but 
" Camelia Cottage," where she was in the habit of 
staying, is in Westhumble. Arrived again at " The 
Beehive," we made a hearty dinner on lamb, peas, 
and potatoes, and an undeniable plum-pudding, after 
which " My Uncle" spread his bandanna over his 
face, and snored lustily for half an hour. Then we 
all ascended Box n ill; and the mist having cleared off 
(though it was showery), we had the full benefit of 
the lovely prospect, where not "half a county bathed 
in light," but three or four 

" Lay stretching out below!" 
It is, as may be supposed, partially covered with 
box trees ; but there are also many yew, beach, and 
juniper trees, with rough seats scattered about 
beneath their pleasing shade, and it abounds with - 
little verdant spots and agreeable walks. Thence \i 
we proceeded, having reached a place called the 



A SEDUCTIVE GARDEN. 37 

Quarry, upon the ridge of the hill that runs towards 
Mickleham, and unanimously agreed with somebody 
who says that at that point "the sublime and beau- 
tiful unite iri forming a truly grand and delightful 
scene" — our way beguiled with the charming view, 
and pleasant converse, to the avenue of limes at 
Betchworth, u a living gallery of aged trees," and 
saw the ruins of what is popularly called a castle, but 
was in reality some old mansion house, and so home, 
about half-past eight, through Brockham Green, an 
excellent specimen of a thorough English village, 
and in which we noticed an admirable, aye, wonder- 
ful garden in front of the " Royal Oak" Inn, the 
neatness, beauty, and fragrance of which would cer- 
tainly have induced us to enter and quaff a glass of 
the homebrewed, had we not called to mind the 
warning of our friend of " Barclay's," and with sad- 
dened spirits turned away. Here I can't resist a 
choice extract from an old " Traveller's Guide " 
without a date, which, speaking of the hill of Brock- 
ham, and doubtless having "the castle" in its eye, 
declares that " on its brow the symmetry of stuccoed 



38 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

parapets dwindles into unsocial obloquy, when com- 
pared with the fertility of the vale beneath!" Re- 
specting "The Denbies," which I have just noticed, 
this same work contains the following information, 
which may be new to some of my readers : — " This 
spot was formerly designed by Mr. Jonathan Tyers 
as a contrast to the bewitching merriment of Yaux- 
hall, nearer London. At ' Denbies' every object 
tended to impress the mind with grave contempla- 
tion, and instead of captivating glees, airs, and 
ballads, the monotonous sound of a clock (concealed 
from view) forcibly proclaimed the rapid flight of 
time ; and in a dismal alcove were seen two large 
figures of a Christian and an unbeliever, in their 
last moments, and a statue of Truth trampling on a 
mask, and pointing to those awful objects. At the 
termination of a walk, two human skulls addressed 
the male and female visitants, but on the death of 
Mr. Tyers, these gloomy figures were no longer per- 
mitted to deform an earthly paradise." It was as 
well, perhaps, for the plain sailing of " the bark of 
friendship," that a change had come o'er the spirit 
of the place, for, as Ned is an Unitarian, and conse- 



BANG QUIZZES DEEDS. 39 

quently an " unbeliever," there is no saying what 
might have happened face to face with the " awful 
objects!" 

After tea, to which we contrived to do ample 
justice, notwithstanding our unwonted breakfast 
and dinner, removing our wet boots, " My Uncle " 
and I made ourselves comfortable over a glass of 
Old Tom ; and we were gratified by an unexpected 
visit from Mr. Deeds, who actually on the second 
evening after marriage came out after tea ! " Ah ! 
my dear fellow, how are you 1 — how d'ye do 1 
Just in time — take a seat ; come, sir, come ; take 
a glass of brandy-and-water. How's the girl you 
left behind you 1 Come, sir, come ! " And Mr. 
Bang went on most mercilessly quizzing the happy 
man, who took it all in good part, and looked 
decidedly the better for his hymeneal venture. He 
did not stop long ; and, arranging that Ned should 
breakfast with them in the morning, betook himself 
to " The Honeymoon," and the arms of his dearie ; 
Mr. Bang accompanying him to the gate, with the 
hope he " might have all love could give and sensi- 
bility enjoy ! " 



CHAPTER IV. 

" The Prevailing Epidemic " — " Save me from my 
Friends ! " — Dorking — Cold Harbour — A Wayside 
Inn — Leith Hill — Holmesdale. 

"Ah! my friend, how are you? How d'ye, do? 
Come, sir, come !" exclaimed Mr. Bang, as I made 
my appearance rather late the next morning at 
breakfast — alarming symptoms of the " prevailing 
epidemic," finally subdued by a persistent recourse 
to my camphor bottle, in spite of the ridicule of 
that gentleman and his graceless nephew, having 
made the greater part of the night a time of con- 
fusion and anxiety. " I thought it was all up with 
you last night ; I did, indeed ; and so far off Sel- 
bourne yet ! But I am more than ever certain we 
shall have to bury you before we get there ! Come, 
sir, come. After you ! " 

" Well," says Ned, " I can't conceive what made 
you so queer, or what offended deity 

' tot volvere casus 
Insignem pietate virum tot adire labores, 
Impulerit,' " 



PUTTING IN A WORD. 41 

(he prides himself on his classics), " unless, to be 
sure, it were Hippocrates, indignant at your. per- 
petual messing with camphor and quinine." 

The quotation having been translated by par- 
ticular request, " My Uncle " begged to suggest 
that the deity in question must have been " Venus," 
justly irate at my forgetfulness of " the girl I'd 
left behind me." 

Ned, who seemed to have something very sharp 
to say, and didn't like the interruption, continued : 
" When you were roaring out for assistance last 
night, and drugging yourself with all sorts of nos- 
trums, I bethought me how like you were to 
4 Blaizes,' the grocer's boy, in Ainsworth's romance 
of ' Old Saint Paul's.' He was for ever doctoring 
and frightening himself, sniffing away at camphor 
and the like ; and I shouldn't be surprised to know 
that, like him, you have ' a dried toad suspended 
round your neck as an amulet of sovereign virtue !' " 

" Now, as you have at last vouchsafed me an 
opportunity of putting in a word," I remarked, " I 
will first observe, that, in spite of the taunts and 
jeers of his acquaintance, Blaize weathered the 



42 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY, 

storm; and the end of the story leaves him, if I 
remember right, happily united to ' the girl,' whom, 
when he was first introduced to us, he had — in the | 
expressive language of Mr. Bang — ' left behind 
him f and so, I say, ' those may laugh who win.' 
In the second place, I would avow my undiminished | 
confidence in camphor, and my conviction that, 
under Providence, it preserved me ; and if my ap- 
pearance at present i speaks variety of wretched- \ 
ness,' and I am not altogether c the thing,' I think • 
it may partially be attributed to the extraordinary 
reception I met with from each of you when in 
search of assistance." 

" "Well," said Ned, " let bygones be bygones. 
Had the worst come to the worst (as let us be 
thankful it didn't), you have the satisfaction of J 
knowing, if your revelations are to be believed, that 
* the sunshine of love ' has ' illumined your youth,' 
and that ' the moonlight of friendship ' would have 
i consoled your decline ! ' And so let us dismiss the 
subject — ad leviora is, I believe, a remark of the 
bard Horace." 



FAREWELL TO THE BEEHIVE. 43 

" Hear, hear ! " from Mr. Bang. " Hear, hear ! 
Come, sirs, come ! My dear fellow, may you live 
fifty years, and I be a witness of it ! Come, sirs, 
come ! " 

After breakfast, having settled our little account 
(" little," in very truth, though we had been living 
like fighting cocks, yet so, with rare exceptions, we 
foimd it wherever we went), and had "attendance" 
charged definitely in the t>ill- — an admirable sugges- 
tion of Mr. Bang's, as, by thus placing ourselves in 
the hands of our host, we put an effectual check at 
once on extortion and abuse — knapsacks on back, 
we for the last time sallied forth from " The Bee- 
hive, Burford-bridge, by Edward Hendon," and at 
the gateway encountered Mr. Deeds and his lady, 
on their way in an open fly to the station at 
Reigate, their final destination being Switzerland, 
via Boulogne. After a brief salutation, blushes, 
and confusion, they shot ahead, just as "My Uncle" 
was hoping "it wouldn't inconvenience them''' to 
give him a lift, and we pursued our way through 
sunshine and showers to Ockley. Our road lay 



44 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



through Dorking, a very pleasant country town, 
and charmingly situate, famous for its poultry and 
butter, and more especially as having been the " 
domicile of "Sam "Weller" of immortal memory. 
It is a large place, with a tolerable church, and ' 
some substantial-looking inns, though I did not I 
observe any with a landlord sharp enough to draw f 
a good business by hanging out the sign of " The 
Marquis of Granby!" Limestone is extensively " 
quarried near the town, and there is likewise much 
chalky and sandy soil in its neighbourhood, which ; 
moreover abounds with pleasant walks and drives. 
Here, too, prevails the custom of " Borough English," 
the peculiar feature of which is the descent of an L 
estate, in case of intestacy, not to the eldest, but to 
the youngest son, in exclusion of all the other 
children, to which fact, I suppose, is to be attributed ' 
the — as far as we could judge — unpopularity of the 
moustache movement in these parts ; " Sweet Will " 
telling us that " one's having a beard is a younger 
brother's revenue," and the young Dorkings being 
properly averse to your estimating them at so low 



AN OLD ENGLISH LANE. 45 

I 

j a figure. It had been a beautiful morning early 
I according to Ned, who had been up and roaming 
I " when you were warm asleep, my { Blaize,' and all 
j the world was still;" but when we started, and 
while in the town, a thick drizzle obscured the sky, 
and everything else, and so we didn't see the place 
under as favourable circumstances as we could wish. 
Our route then lay through Cold Harbour-lane 
— a most delightful, regular English lane, of great 
length, and rather steep, the hedges on either side 
fragrant and gorgeous with roses and honeysuckles, 
heaths, heather, blue bells, and all sorts of wild 
flowers — a "subject" after the very heart of a pre- 
Baphaelite artist. At the little village half-way up 
Leith Hill, which we reached about one, and which 
consisted of some half-dozen cottages, we entered an 
old, straggling, wayside public-house, called " The 
Ploughshare;" and making ourselves comfortable 
in the old chimney-corner, had a hearty lunch of 
bread and cheese and cold brandy and water, and 
Ned actually indulged in a cup of cider. The land- 
lord and his wife were out " harvesting," and the 



46 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

house was full of children, pretty-looking and clean, 
the eldest of them, a girl of fourteen, but in the full P 
consciousness of her responsibilities and charge, 
quite a little woman. She was an excellent L 
manager, laid the table, kissed that little sister, f 
boxed the ears of that mischievous boy, rocked the f 
cradle, and brought the brandy all in a trice; and ; 
had, moreover, a capital eye to business, and laid it 
on very heavy in the reckoning, so much so, indeed, ' 
that Ned, who, "though on pleasure he was bent, 
had still a frugal mind," entered a strong protest 
against her claim, and eventually, to his great satis- f 
faction, succeeded in striking off threepence. Here 
we first noticed a peculiarity in the style of building 
the houses and barns, &c, the blocks of freestone 
being placed in irregular and fantastic order, and the 
mortar in the joints punctured with the chips of the 
dark forest sandstone, which, says Gilbert White, in 
his " Natural History of Selbourne" (where the custom 
is likewise prevalent), "has occasioned strangers 
sometimes to ask us, pleasantly, 'whether we 
fastened our walls together with tenpenny nails?' " 






THE PARAGON OF HILLS. 



47 



Following the lane, we at length came to Leith 
Hill, said to be the highest point in the south of 
England ; the summit is crowned with a ruined red 
brick tower, whence is a most extensive and mag- 
nificent view, and in clear weather the sea can be 
detected between Chatlingbury and the next down. 
This tower was erected by one Mr. Hull, " oblecta- 
mento non sui solum, sed vicinorum et omnium" 
as an inscription on the west side informs us ; but 
dying shortly afterwards, in 1772, in the eighty- 
third year of his age, although he was buried be- 
neath it, and the rascals came into a large estate, 
yet his heirs suffered it to run into decay, and en- 
tirely frustrated his intentions pro bono publico. 

Of " Lith Hill," as he calls it, Old Camden says, 
" The like, I think, is not to be found in any part 
of England, or perhaps Europe besides, and the rea- 
son why it is not more observed is, partly, its lying 
quite out of the road, and partly its rising so gently 
and making so little show till one is got to the very 
top of it." 

Ned was in ecstasies, and after his usual confi- 



48 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

dential interview with the sun, as I had no insult 
to offer to his feelings, as at Mickleham, he got li 
upon his legs, and treated us to a gratuitous ha- [ f 
rangue. . • f 

"At last," said he, "I stand on this far-famed |> 
spot, and from the wild rough heights of Leith Hill h 
gaze on a prospect unexampled in beauty and rarely 
equalled in extent — a view that an old traveller I t 
have read of, but whose name I have forgotten, ». 
writes about and says, that after journeying long in 
foreign parts, and seeing that grand view of Naples, 
which a man having once seen, may then die happy, 
as having seen the first beauty the world can afford, 
after seeing the wide prospects from some of the 
most famous points in Switzerland, and having been 
a wanderer in search of beauty through wide 
Europe, he returned home, and in travelling from 
the coast to London chanced to stray from the \ 
road, and to ramble over these heights, and then 
and there, he says, he saw a view of such unrivalled 
and surpassing loveliness, that nought he had seen 
in all his travel could for one moment vie with it — 



NED IN ECSTASIES. 49 

one that would remain stamped on his memory as 
the most glorious thing he had ever seen. I, too, 
have seen that view of Naples — I, too, have beheld 
the vaunted scenery, of foreign lands, and when I 
now look from this lofty eminence, I can easily be- 
lieve the old traveller felt as he says (and truly can 
I echo his sentiments), when he looked on this wide 
prospect, and remembered that all he looked on was 
England — his own country, after his years of foreign 
travel. It's magnificent, it's superb !" 

And so saying, he flung himself down again, and 
he and the sun had it out together. As for " My 
Uncle," he was speechless with admiration — the 
words wouldn't come. It was, as I whispered sotto 
voce to Ned, a case of — 

" I would that my tongue could utter 
The thoughts that arise in me ! " 

After a time he managed to get out something 
about "water." 

" Why, my dear sir," said I, " were it but 
clearer, you would, through that break in the hills 
there, between Arundel and Brighton, at Shoreham 

E 



50 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

gap, see the sea ! But, never mind, be comforted. 
While looking over Ned's map this morning, I saw 
an immense tract of 'land covered with water,' 
called 'Woolmer Pond,' which we shall reach in 
the course of a day or two, and then you will have 
water to your heart's content, and perhaps call for 
a little brandy with it ! It will be ' water — water — 
everywhere' then." 

The worthy gentleman being somewhat comforted 
by that cheering prospect, though he confessed one 
might have too much of a good thing, we descended 
the hill and passed through Holmesdale, which was 
so gallantly defended and stoutly maintained against 
the Danes in the early period of our history, as to 
afford an effectual barrier against the progress of 
that ferocious people, and give rise to the old dis- 
tich — 

" This is Holmesdale 
Ne wonne, never shall." 

It derives its name from the Holm Oak, which 

abounds here, and in the time of Charles II. it was 

celebrated for its red deer; afterwards it was a 



HOLMS CASTLE. 51 

famous strawberry ground ; and now it is over- 
grown with furze. Fuller's earth and medicinal 

o 

herbs and plants were once very plentiful. The 
old Traveller's Guide I have before quoted says, 
" There was here a very ancient castle called Holms 
Castle, built by the Earls Warren, under which 
Camden mentions having seen an extraordinary 
passage, with a vaulted room, hewn with great 
labour out of the sand-stone, of which the hills 
hereabouts are composed. Here we are told the 
barons who took up arms against King John had 
their private meetings, and especially the evening 
before the celebrated congress in Runnymede. A 
gate, with some round towers, were the last re- 
mains." And so sauntering quietly along, we 
reached about three the village of Ockley, and put 
up at that excellent house of entertainment, " The 
King's Arms." 



e2 



CHAPTEK V. 

Ockley — An Evening Ramble — Ned's "certain cure" for 
the Cholera — A Country ' ' Shop " — Cranley — Has- 
combe — Whitley — A Rustic Concert. 

A sweeter spot, a more thoroughly rural and out-of- 
the-world nook, than the little hamlet of Ockley, I 
have neither seen, nor can conceive. It is a perfect 
gem — the very paragon of villages. There is a 
" green," of course, and in the centre of it is a very 
picturesque well, erected in 1837, in accordance 
with the will of one Jane Scott, who, the place 
being badly off for water, left all her money for the 
beneficent purpose of remedying the want ; and 
then the green is a spacious and irregular one, 
inclosed on all sides with lofty trees, pleasant 
hedgerows, and sweetly pretty thatch-roofed cot- 
tages, covered with vines and other creepers, and - 
bounded right along one side by the Staine-street |[ 
Causeway, an old Roman road, straight as an 






THE GEM OF VILLAGES. 53 

arrow, as usual, but lined with, noble oaks and 
leafy chestnuts, yielding here and there a glimpse, 
through their luxuriant foliage and sturdy stems, of 
our intended hostelry, " The King's Arms," and its 
adjacent outbuildings, and divers cottages and farm- 
steads. And then everything is so clean and neat — 
a very Dutch village for tidyness ; and there is such 
a charming country round it, and pleasant prospects, 
and so many lovely sequestered walks, that, in fact, 
of all the places I have ever seen or pictured to 
myself as the goal of a laborious career, where to 
spend the " otium " of my declining years, Ockley 
stands the first, and with no chance of ever losing 
its proud pre-eminence. Ned's opinion exactly 
coincided with mine, whereat I was pleasurably sur- 
prised, as I had feared that the " wild rough heights 
of Leith Hill " would have indisposed him properly 
to appreciate its sober tranquillity ) and so we 
decided (a very agreeable arrangement — si fata non 
obstant — and presuming the "little difficulty" 
about his faith, or rather want of faith (!), would be 
overcome by that time) on going down arm in arm 



54 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

to posterity, as vicar's and parochial wardens, or 
resident squires of the neighbourhood. 

" I tell you what it is," said Mr. Bang, — " I tell 
you what it is — it's all very well — all very well — 
but" — re-arranging his bag and umbrella with 
much fastidiousness — "but — I want water — water 
— water ; come, sir, come ! " and we bent our steps 
to " The King's Arms," " My Uncle " casting an 
eye of hope in the direction of Woolmer. 

Having secured our beds — Ned and I being 
obliged to occupy a double-bedded room, — and 
ordered a heavy tea for eight o'clock (our usual 
hour), we sauntered forth for a ramble in the "even- 
ing calm and cool," and the first thing we noticed 
was, that over the sign of his Majesty's Arms 
(which were " supported," as the phrase is, by a 
most ferocious looking lion and evil-intentioned 
unicorn, but appeared to an ordinary observer, like 
myself, in danger of speedy annihilation in the 
coming struggle) was suspended a " gate," which is 
sometimes made to do service as a sign by itself, and 
in some parts of the country is of common occur- 



ROMPING SCHOOLBOYS. 55 

rence, but this was the only instance of our meeting 
one in Surrey. The sentiment it is supposed to 
convey (if it be not painted beneath) is, 

" This gate hangs well, and hinders none, 
Refresh, and pay, and then pass on." 

And the second thing we observed was a commotion 
at the door of a neighbouring cottage, whence, the 
next moment, " four-and-twenty happy boys came 
bounding out of school." " Away they sped with 
gamesome minds," and " drave the wickets in," and 
were soon scattered over the green, 

" Turning to mirth all things of earth 
As only boyhood can," 

and among them my blue cap, upon which they 
were uncommon hard. 

One unhappy broth of a boy, as a matter of course, 
fell into Ned's clutches; and while all the rest were 
romping about, and pretty village maidens were 
going backwards and forwards from the well, was 
doomed to a long interrogation as to the early 
history of his native county in general, and the 
great battle fought with the Danes in his native 



56 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

village, in particular. But I believe neither of them 
knew much more about it than that "'twas a 
famous victory!" but Ned expressed himself as 
delighted with his conversation, and assured us it 
would " afford pleasant food for thought in many- 
quiet moments." 

Ned and I then took the bats, and entered with 
spirit into the game; for if, as is true, we always 
bring eyes for all we see in the country, it is no 
less so that 

" We join in all their simple sports ; 
They please us, fresh from brawling courts 
And dusty purlieus of the law." 

Mr. Bang got hold of a garrulous old fellow, 
doubtless " the oldest inhabitant," and they sat 
chattering away upon the sebtle, about the gentry 
of the neighbourhood, the quality of the soil, the 
system of farming adopted, and all that sort of 
thing ; and our game over, I made my way to the 
well, and helped the little girls with their pails; 
and if, as we read in the old distich, I did some- 
thing else too — well — " need a body tell ? " 



OCKLEY CHURCH YAKD. 57 

Having thus enjoyed ourselves each after his 
own fashion, we inquired our way to the church, 
being anxious to see the burying ground, from 
having previously read old Camden's description of 
it ; " where," says that Worthy — " where is a certain 
custom observed, time out of mind, of planting 
rose-trees upon the graves, especially of young men 
and maids who have lost their lovers, so that this 
churchyard is now full of them." But, alas ! when 
we got there, 

" The trees they were withered — the roses were gone ! " 
The present generation is a degenerate one, and, 
when one lover has departed, are too busy looking 
out for a substitute to waste their precious time in 
decorating the old lover's tomb. 

Said Ned, wide-awake in hand, and staring per- 
tinaciously at the setting sun, 

" Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, 
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in the grave — 
And thou must die !" 

and then, flinging himself on the greensward, was 

lost in a lengthened reverie. 






58 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

We afterwards extended our stroll to some of the 
surrounding farms ; and just as " the twilight 
grey" had 

" In her silver livery all things clad," 
and " ere the stars were visible," we " reached the 
village inn, our evening resting-place." 

Mrs. Brown, our hostess, had prepared us a mag- 
nificent meal, and very cheerful were we over it ; - 
and when, after a prolonged chat, we retired for l 
the evening, and Ned and I found ourselves in our 
double-bedded room, says I, " Well, if I am destined I 
to undergo the misery of another infliction of the 
prevailing epidemic, it's an unspeakable satisfaction " 
to have you so near at hand." 

"My dear fellow," replied Ned, "I hope you 

don't intend anything of the sort — it's a great 

nuisance; but if you do, and are as bad as you 

were last night well, my mind's made up. A 

certain poet has said, 

' Diseases desperate grown, 
By desperate appliance are relieved.' 

Now, I have an uncle in Newcastle, who had great 



A CURE FOR THE CHOLERA. 59 

experience during the late terrific visitation of the 
cholera there; and of the many remedies then sug- 
gested, those that he found the most efficacious 
were the laying, at the option of the patient, on the 
pit of the stomach, either a hot brick, or a linen 
rag steeped in spirits of wine, and then set alight. 
Now, either of those courses will restore the cir- 
culation instantaneously; and I'm determined, if 
you disturb me, to adopt something of the sort; 
and as I may not be able to get a hot brick, and 
the house is destitute of spirits of wine (for I made 
inquiries as soon as I found we were to occupy the 
same room), I shall take your camphor bottle, and 
apply it for once in a sensible way. Good night, 
old boy, and take the hint." 

Not at all relishing such kill or cure treatment 
as that, the reader will be comforted to know that 
I passed an excellent night, and woke in the 
morning more like myself than I had dared to 
hope. It was rather early, though — about five; and 
I missed the flycatcher suspended from the ceiling 
in my room at " The Beehive," it being amusing, 



60 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

as we did not get up till six, to watch the little 
creatures flying round it. I wish they were more J 
general in bed-rooms; but I only recollect having 
them on one occasion before, at a hotel near the f 
Paddington station, where, had it likewise proved 
an attraction to the fleas, 'twould have been an 
invaluable article. As it was, I was bitten from 
head to foot; and on being asked to "remember 
the chambermaid," dismissed her with " one in her ' 
ear ! " 

The morning was misty; but there was promise jl 
of a fine day. Ned and I took our early constitu- 
tional, and, on our return, noticing an indistinct f 
figure, with its legs apart, in the middle of the 
road, and a hat over its eyes, said Ned, " Oh ! my 
prophetic soul, my uncle!" And suddenly giving 
the worthy gentleman a slap on the back, the legs 
were instantly gathered up, the nail-trimmer fell to 
the ground, and the hat started on a voyage of dis- 
covery over the green ; whence, after an exciting 
chase, a little breeze just then getting up, it was 
recovered in dangerous proximity to the well. 



i 



ONCE MORE ON TRAMP. 61 

" Come, sirs, come ! Come, sirs, come ! May the 

wings of friendship never moult a feather ! But — 

j you'll pardon me — I shall be obliged to punch your 

J heads if you don't look sharp. Come, sirs, come ! 

I After you." 

A thousand apologies were offered, and most 
graciously accepted, to my great relief; for Mr. 
Bang is rather powerful in the arms ; and there is 
no disguising the fact, that even a playful slap from 
the paw of the lion could be cheerfully dispensed 
with. After breakfast, which was pronounced 
" superb," nem. con., and bidding adieu to Mrs. 
Brown, with all sorts of encomiums on her admir- 
able housekeeping, we were, at ten o'clock, " once 
more on tramp," as Ned regularly reminded us 
every morning. Our anticipations proved correct : 
it was a most magnificent day; and, according to 
our previous arrangements, we took our course 
along" the fields (we always avoided the highways), 
through Ewhurst and Cranley, to Hascombe. 
Ewhurst, so called from its woods, in which the 
yew tree was formerly abundant, is a poor little 



62 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



place, with a very uninviting " public," which 
determined us on investing in some bread and 
cheese and gingerbeer at " the shop" — that omnium 
gatherum in a country village, where you get any- 1, 
thing, from a glaringly coloured dress to a rope of i 
onions ; and Ned having satisfactorily completed 
the bargain with a small boy behind a high counter, 
almost blinded with wasps, and I am certain to the j 
great loss of the establishment, we withdrew to a 
harvest field in contiguity to the church, and, 
" Beneath some sheltering heap of yellow core," 
discussed the frugal meal. Thence to Cranley 
which my old Guide tells me is supposed by , 
a Mr. Salmon to derive its name from a Heronry 
here, " when the breed of herons, or cranes, was d 
encouraged for the sake of hawking them ;" and i 
he — Salmon — embraces the opportunity of giving a ! 
little anecdote : " We may, from the history of i. 
Rufus, conclude that this fowl was once a delicious 
morsel, for he disgraced one of his chief nobility, c 
who had the care of his table, for setting before 
him a crane but half roasted ;" on which he founds - 






A FUNNY FISH. 63 

the remarkable conjecture that " perhaps these 
martial conquering stomachs fed upon creatures of 
prey and ravage, that the juices might be impreg- 
nated with a savage disposition, which, above all 
things, they indulged;" and which convinces me 
that Salmon must be the " funny fish " that wrote 
the " choice extract " in Chapter III. ! It is a 
large straggling village, with some good shops, 
several inns, and a handsome church; and after 
sitting in the churchyard for some time, and patro- 
nising Mr. Herrington in the matter of lemonade, we 
proceeded to " The Leather Bottle," on the Guild- 
ford-road, where, on second thoughts, Ned deemed 
it preferable to pass the night ; but finding all their 
beds were engaged, were obliged to push on to 
Hascombe, which, on the whole, we did not regret, 
as " The Leather Bottle " seemed but an indifferent 
place, very dirty, and with several Popish prints 
about the parlour ; so that " My Uncle " would 
rather " have gone twelve miles to the next house," 
at the dead of night, than have stopped there ; 
while Ned, for obstinacy's sake, protested they were 



64 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



the only redeemable features about the place, and 
suggested, as they had no beds, we should put up , 
with a " shake-down " on some clean straw ! This 
was far too serious an instance of insubordination 
for " My Uncle " to pass by without remark ; and 
he accordingly improved the opportunity, by a 
vigorous and overwhelming onslaught on Pope and , 
Popery, in which he was earnestly supported by the 
humble individual who, &c. &c. ; and which com- 
pletely annihilated our thoughtless friend, who ^ 
shortly hid his diminished head in the ample folds 7 
of his ordnance map. 

Soon we came upon a beautiful lane, with fields n 
on either side rich with the waving grain, and wind 
ing up to the top of a lofty hill, where are the traces 
of a Roman camp, and whence was a most magnifi 
cent and extensive view of the Weald of Surrey 
embracing the country we had already traversed | 
(conspicuous over all, " the wild rough heights of 
Leith Hill"), and the parts we were yet to visit — 
the sloping meadows all lit up with glory by the 
sinking sun, and many a snug homestead dotted 



! 

; 






THE COTTAGES OF HASCOMBE. 65 

here and there. There we sat enjoying the calm 
and lovely prospect till "the moon took up the 
wondrous tale ;" and then we wound our way 
through pleasant groves — the owls shouting in the 
old woods, the throstles piping in the covert of the 
thick evergreens, and the bats flapping in our faces — 
to "The White Horse Inn," at Hascombe. Here we 
had capital fare, a little cherry-cheeked lass to 
attend us, Ned and I again occupied a double- 
bedded room, and, as a consequence, my health was 
excellent. We found the next morning that Has- 
combe was a very rural, dreamy, little place, with a 
curious old church in a most out-of-the-way situ- 
ation, and some charming cottages embosomed in 
flowers and creepers, and amongst them I must not 
forget that of the old village Crispin, whose advice 
I went to obtain respecting my orthodox but un- 
comfortable boots : 

" Yellow sheafs from rich Ceres the cottage had crowned, 
Green rushes were strewed on the floor, 
The casements sweet woodbine crept wantonly round, 
And decked the sod seats at the door ;" 

he had also a spacious garden, brimful of flowers 

F 



1 



66 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

and vegetables, and an orchard and a little paddock -, 
beyond it, where, after a quarter of an hour's search, ; 
I found him ; likewise he had his " good woman, 
and one child, 



" a daughter chaste and fair, 
His age's comfort, and his fortune's heir," 



f 






whom I grieve to say — scared away, perhaps, by the 
blue cap — I didn't see ; but that venerable sinner "My 
Uncle" did, and vowed she was "the sweetest thing . 
that ever grew beside a cottage door ;" whereupon ' 
Ned remarked that it was a beautiful morning, and 
that the hues of a certain dahlia were exquisite ! 
The old man promptly undertook to put my boots 
on the stretcher, and we adjourned to breakfast. 
That meal satisfactorily disposed of, and our bill , 
settled, we again strapped on our knapsacks, and 
were " once more on tramp." 

First we reached Hambledon, where is a fine 
church with a famous old yew tree, but nothing else 
worthy of notice. Thence to a village called Whit- [ 
ley, which is of a heavy sombre appearance, and 






A VOCAL ENTERTAINMENT. 67 

were better called " Redley," all the houses being 
built of the red sandstone, and the roads and walls 
partaking of the same hue, and the inhabitants 
looking like a tribe of red Indians ! Referring to 
my worthy old Guide, I find "this place is privileged, 
as ancient demesne, from serving on juries. In 
Whitley park there was, some years ago, as much 
iron ore as set two forges at work. At Bonfield, 
in this parish, there was a spring of water good for 
sore eyes and ulcers ; and in digging two spits 
deep near it, were found old English coins of gold 
and silver, together with rings, which raised the 
value of the land two shillings an acre more than 
elsewhere ;" but we are not informed whether it 
ever repaid the outlay. Here we purchased some 
lunch, and again repaired to the churchyard to discuss 
it. Afterwards seating myself on a stile, I produced 
a little private collection of "Poetic Gems," and 
treated my comrades to a vocal entertainment 
gratis. I don't know whether I have before men- 
tioned the circumstance, but I have the misfortune 
to be perfectly deaf of one ear, and sometimes 

f2 



(58 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

jmrtially so of the other, and as a natural conse- 
quence am given to talk somewhat loud ; so after I 
had bellowed forth some half dozen of Moore's bal- 
lads, I was rather startled by a loud " Haw, haw," 
at my left ear, and looking round discovered a vast 
band of harvesters, men, women, and children, 
laughing fit to kill themselves ; for, not seeing Ned 
and " My Uncle," they lying on the other side of 
the hedge, they doubtless conceived I was some 
" daft 'un," and probably anticipated good sport out 
of me, which, though of an accommodating dispo- 
sition, would, I suspect, have tried me to the utter- 
most ; but as my friends just then presented them- 
selves, they began to comprehend the matter, and 
the leader of them, putting his best leg foremost, 
and pulling with needless pertinacity a lock of his 
hair, requested, in the name of his comrades, that 
" the gentleman " would favour them with another. 
So, always willing to contribute to the innocent 
pleasures of the labouring classes, I graciously 
acceded, after which Mr. Bang sang "Bachelors' 
Fare " (the only song he knows), and Ned brought 



GENERAL APPLAUSE. 60 

up the rear with " The Poacher's Song," and " Oh, 
what sweet contentment the countryman doth find !" 
and then we took our departure, amid such loud 
huzzas, waving of sickles and neckerchiefs, and gene- 
ral applause as would have done my Lord Albe- 
marle's heart good to witness. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Which is the Wat ? — A Wayside School — The Devil's 
Punchbowl — Haslemere — Our First Sunday — What 



I 



Next? 
From Whitley we pushed on cross country to the 
" Devil's Punchbowl," which, after great labour and 
difficulty — not meeting a soul to direct us — the 
sign-boards in the neighbourhood being in a similar 
state to the " Bye Laws " of railway companies, 
either illegible or vague ; and being, therefore, 
entirely dependent on the ordnance map, or rather j» 
on Ned's interpretation of it — we at last succeeded 
in reaching, wayworn and footsore. I am not sure 
but that our "not meeting a soul to direct us" 
tended indirectly to our arrival considerably sooner 
than if we had fallen on a populous locality ; for 
Ned, in spite of his perpetual swearing by the f 
ordnance map, invariably asked the way of every 
individual man, woman, or child we met or over- 
took in the course of the day. No matter if it were 






ANIMATED FINGER-POSTS. 71 

one of those undeniably idle would-be-thought- 
industrious gentry, 

" Deemed a piratical sort of invader, 
By him we dub the regular trader ; " 

a travelling pedlar, pack on back, and safe to be a 
" stranger to the place ; " an old woman, deaf as 
Dame Eleanor Spearing, gathering sticks by the 
roadside, and who, "turning on the pivot of her 
skull her long left ear," could not be impressed by 
a quarter of an hour's shouting with the remotest 
glimmering of the nature of his inquiry; a dri- 
velling old idiot grinning on a stile, and who 
responded with alacrity, pointing to all parts of 
the compass at once ; or a little toddling child, with 
one geographical idea in her head — the situation of 
" mother's cottage," and who, of course, being too 
shy to speak, stretched out her little hand pertina- 
ciously in that direction ; — in a word, whoever it 
might be, underwent a long interrogation; and when 
at length worn out, he or she hopelessly but reso- 
lutely drew an imaginary line, they found the relief 
they barely expected, for off our Mend had started, 



72 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

we perforce obliged to follow ; and in about an hour 
or so would find ourselves some three miles out of 
our way, on a wild common or in an impassable 
wood, much to the indignation of "My Uncle," 
who " wasn't accustomed to this sort of thing," and 
who always wound up an unintelligible but ominous 
muttering with " I tell you what it is — I tell you 

what it is — d that map — I'm not so young as I 

have been, and I'm not going to be pulled about in 
this way. Shut up that map ; have done with all 
this humbug. I tell you what it is, the next town 
we come to, I take the coach and go back." How- 
ever, when we did get to the town, comfortable 
quarters and a hearty meal soon restored the old 
gentleman's equanimity ; and when sitting over the 
fire, with his glass of grog, he could talk with 
smiles of the troubles of the day. "Come, sir, 
come. Have a glass ! Come, sir, come ! I tell 
you what it is, I'm an old man, you know, and like 
taking things quietly. I don't like being hurried, 
and all that sort of thing, you know; but come, 
sirs, come ! Let us drown our sorrows in the bowl ! 






A KISSING EPISODE. 73 

May the best day we have seen be the worst we 
have to come ; and may the sunshine — or rather 
the tallow candles — of comfort dispel the clouds of 
care. Give us your hand. How's the girl you 
left behind you ? Come, sir, come ! Sir, to you ! 

| Come, sir, h come ! " and, tossing off his glass, was 

' himself again. 

But I am forgetting the " Devil's Punchbowl." 
On our way we passed a lonely place called "Brook 
Street," where several laughing young ladies were 
commendably employed in teaching a rustic school, 
but who, girls and all, rushed out on our advent, — 
the boys hurrahing and shouting, and the pretty 
dears waving their handkerchiefs, shaking their 
curls, and (when we were far enough off) kissing 
their lily hands. "My Uncle" was delighted 
with the little episode, kissed the tips of his fingers 
gallantly, spoke volumes — with his eyes — and 
begged me not to forget it in " The Journal." As 
for myself, the blue cap was again in requisition, and 

I flatter myself but I forbear ! And as for Ned, 

it is by no means remarkable that he "never saw" 



74 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

the young ladies, but was enthusiastic about " the : 
boys;" it was so delightful and exhilarating to see 
them romping about, &c. ; and much regretting he T 
hadn't had time for a chat (to add to his stock of 
provender, it is supposed, for his next "quiet ' : 
moment"), wound up a harangue with the asser- 
tion, " I feel it now," as the poet, poor Tom Hood 
says — " I feel 'tis now 

'* but little joy, 
To know Fm farther off from heaven, 
Than when I was a boy!" 

Well ! Farewell, ladies ! May you be happy ! and , 
each find a "husiband galliant and gay!" — though I jj 
sadly fear that, like old Crispin's pretty daughter 
at Hascombe, you are thrown away in these lone 
country parts — are "born to blush unseen, and 
waste your sweetness on the desert air," — for 

" Where none admire, 'tis useless to excel ; 
Where none are beaux, 'tis vain to be a belle!" 






At length, as I have said, weary and exhausted — for 
we had been a long round, the sun was intensely 
hot, and there was hardly any breeze — we reached 



: 



ADVANCING BACKWARDS. 75 

the base of a series of hills ; but as it was impossible 
to decide from which we could view the " Punch- 
bowl" — as Mr. Bang vowed he wasn't going a wild- 
goose chase up them all, and as my troublesome 
boots still rendered me anything but an 

11 Unvexed loiterer by the world's green ways," 

and so was inclined to rest me a bit — it was settled 
that Ned, who is never tired, should go forward to 
reconnoitre, and fix on the " basis of operations ;" a 
duty that that accommodating youth, casting off his 
| coat and knapsack, cheerfully performed, and, 
bounding up the hills like a young roe, we soon 
beheld him waving his wideawake — the signal of 
success. Then, myself seizing his abandoned knap- 
sack, and "My Uncle" casting his coat over his 
shoulder, we essayed to follow his agile steps, but 
our progress for some time was of the retrograde 
nature peculiar to the crab. 

" Downwards we climbed, and backwards we 
advanced," and not without incalculable toil did we 
reach the summit, where we discovered Mr. Ned, 






76 A SAUNTEK THROUGH SURREY. 

as a matter of course, on his back, enjoying a 
delicious tete-a-tete with his solar majesty ! We 
were on the highest of a commanding range of j 
heather-clad eminences, and considerably below us 
was the famous " Punchbowl" — a very deep and 
extensive hollow amid the hills, and popularly 
regarded (together with every other lusus naturae) \ { 
as the handiwork of " the dark gentleman." 
Between it and us, and winding round it amid ling 
and heath, was the old Portsmouth road, whereon \ 
we presently descried, with a brave load of 
passengers and a gallant team of grays, and all 
covered with dust, the Portsmouth mail. I thought j 
it my duty, under the circumstances, to give my j- 
blue cap an encouraging and jovial whirl, when, to 
my dismay, the coachman immediately pulled up, 
under the impression we wanted to join him. ',} 
Near five minutes were consumed in unavailing 
gesticulations on my part, and vehement but ] 
inaudible objurgations to " Go on ! " " All right ! " 
and the like ; at the end of which period I dis- 
appeared abruptly from the scene amongst the I 






THE SCENE OF A TRAGEDY. 77 

heather; and on looking up shortly afterwards, our 
friend the mail was but a speck in the distance. 
We then descended to the road to inspect a block of 
stone " erected in detestation of" — as the inscription 
told us — a horrible murder committed here near a 
hundred years ago on the person of a poor sailor, 
and then to the top of the grand height of Hind 
Head just above, where stands a very picturesque 
stone cross, with Latin texts, to mark the spot 
where the culprits were hung in chains. We found 
old men in Haslemere, who, when they were young 
boys, went to see that tragedy. Then, after half 
an hour's lounging about and luxuriating on the 
odoriferous sward, we slowly wound our way down, 
and made for the market town of Haslemere, where 
we arrived about six, and put up at the " White 
Horse," an old posting-house of the days gone by, 
and consequently very slow and dull in the present. 
Here we learnt that the driver and passengers of 
the Portsmouth mail were intensely indignant at 
the detention of their vehicle, while rounding the 
" Punchbowl," by a party of Cockneys, &c. <fec; but as 



78 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

they were by that time far away, I forgave them ! 
We then strolled about the neighbourhood till 
eight — very pretty country, some handsome " seats," J 
and a good sprinkling of fir and other copses, i 
After tea, " My Uncle " and I had an interview of 
a very satisfactory nature with the Chancellor of l 
the Exchequer, at the termination of which Mr. • 
Bang and Mr. Ned had another, with a similarly r 
pleasing result, with the Keeper of the Journal; 
and the evening being then far advanced, we 
retired, Ned and I again occupying a double- 
bedded room. 

The next day was Sunday — our first ; and the 
reader will be gratified to know it " shone a Sab- 
bath day " to self and friends. The morning broke 
gloriously, and Ned was up at six, as usual ; but I, t 
not liking to break an established custom, took a lie- - 
in, and did not make my appearance till breakfast 
time. That repast being disposed of, we started 
for church, in time to make a circuit of the town, ; 
about which, I am bound to say, we were not very 
enthusiastic. The country around it is certainly 









HASLEMERE CHURCH. 79 

pretty, but Haslemere itself is an eyesore ; a dull, 
dingy, unromantic " wen." It is the last town in 
Surrey, on the Sussex boundary. " It is said," 
writes the old Guide, " to have had formerly 
seven parish churches, though now only one, and 
that a chapel of ease to Chiddingfold, a village 
about two miles to the east of it ; and also that the 
town stood heretofore more to the south than the 
present one, which is probable, because of the many 
wells discovered thereabouts." This " chapel," dedi- 
cated to Saint Bartholomew, and which we reached 
in proper time, when 

" Calling sinful man to pray, 
Long, loud, and deep the bell had toll'd," 

stands on a rising ground, at the north end of the 
town, and is an old, styleless, and most unecclesias- 
tical looking building. Its interior design is that 
of a double nave, separated by a range of circular 
arches, and contains an extraordinary jumble of 
high pews, of every conceivable, form and size ; but 
all incongruities were amply atoned for by an ad- 
mirable sermon from the vicar, Mr. Eske. Service 



80 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

over, and dinner not being ordered till two, wc 
rambled about the fields ; and at last coming to an 
eminence overlooking a glorious panorama, Mr. 
Bang " improved the opportunity," by producing, 
and requesting me to read, a small tract, in which, 
for the trifling charge of one halfpenny (or four 
shillings per hundred), twenty-one of the " Leading : 
Errors of the Church of Rome," were questioned - 
and refuted out of the Douay version of the Scrip- 
tures. Ned nid-nodded his head as I proceeded; l 
but is believed not to have heard a word of the ; 
" triumphant exposure," as " My Uncle " called 
it, being calmly engaged in digesting some of that : 
mental provender I have before alluded to. Re- 
tracing our steps, then, to the " White Horse " and 
dinner, Mr. Bang became possessed with a sudden 
and inexplicable melancholy; and, after an unusual 
silence, suddenly broke out with, " How long's this i 
sort of thing going on 1 " Utterly at a loss to con- 
ceive our revered relative's meaning, we both in- 
stantaneously replied, " What sort of thing 1 " 
And then it came out (with considerable dim- .1 



"my uncle" wants a scene. 81 

culty, from the length of the words — and, indeed, 
it was quite a triumph of pronunciation), that 
" this sort of thing " was the most " unepisodical, 
unincidental " nature of our tour. There was no 
variation — no excitement. 

" Next day 'twas the same, and the next, and the 
next," and he was tired of " this sort of thing." 
There was no water in this country, and he wanted 
water — he'd had enough of scenery — he wanted a 
scene; Ned was aghast at this avowal. "What! 
faint hearted, and weary and skulking already!" 
and he launched forth more suo. " Why, my dear 
sir, you're as uncertain, coy, and hard to please, as 
the poet says is woman in her hours of ease. What 
can you want, and sigh for, surrounded by all these 
' softly swelling hills,' and lovely valleys, and pic- 
turesque villages 1 Were you to rise with the lark, 
as Tye and I do, you'd enjoy the morning air so 
' charming fresh,' 

' When the zephyrs and the heifers 
Their odoriferous breath compare;' 

you are with us in the broad noonday, when we are 

G 



82 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

ever roaming to ' fresh fields and pastures new; 

and 

' Oh! how fine our evening walk, 
Charming fine our evening walk, 
When the nightingale delighting 
With her song suspends our talk, 
With her song suspends our talk!' 

Heavens !" cried our friend, gazing hard at the 
sun; " Heavens I what a goodly prospect spreads 
around ! 

' Ever charming, ever new, 
When will the landscape tire the view? r " 

The only reply " My Uncle" vouchsafed to this 
beautiful address, as he was getting over a stile into 
the main road, was of a similarly startling nature to 
his previous ejaculation — "God bless my soul!" 
Said "My Uncle," " What's that ?" 



> 



CHAPTER VII. 

An "Episode" — Liphook — A Young Traveller— Bramshott 
Churchyard — Our Nag-boy Friends — A Fop in the 
Country— A Treeless Forest and an Empty Pond — 
A New Acquaintance — "What's that?" again — 
Arrival at Selborne. 

It was not at this stage of our wanderings that 
we were to learn the answer to "My Uncle's" 
startling interrogatory ; for aught we could imagine, 
it might have been caused by an unexpected rent in 
his drab breeks, or by knocking his knee against 
the top rail of the stile, for it becomes my duty as 
a faithful narrator of the plain unvarnished truth, 
to chronicle the fact, that on pushing forwards to 
the stile — a narrow one, in a high thickset hedge 
that had before impeded our view — we observed 
that the road shortly took an abrupt turning to the 
right, but — nihil prceterea. Looking to " My Uncle" 
for an explanation, we remarked that that gentle- 
man's melancholy had much increased, and that his 

g 2 






84 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

countenance exhibited an expression of amazement 
painful to behold. After much pressing, he sternly 
bade us " have done with that," and refer no more 
to the subject. "Let it suffice," said he, "that I 
don't altogether know myself what it was — whatever 
it be, I've seen it once before — when I thought 
nothing of it — but — seeing it again — convinces me 
there's something" — here he stopped, and again 
relapsed into his moody silence. Every artifice was : 
resorted to to arouse him and engage his attention ; 
Ned and I had an animated discussion on "Popery 
viewed as a political system " — then Lieut. Perry's 
case was brought forward — and finally we turned | 
the conversation on Woolmer, its Forest and Pond — 
but all in vain ; and it was not till seated before a 
hearty meal that the spirit of Bang, our Uncle, 
revived. But even then, and although we had a 
bottle of wine — it being Sunday — and he might 
have been supposed to have unbended under its 
genial influence, he shortly checked any allusion ) 
to the matter. 

The dinner which our host of the " White Horse" 



THE MEETING OF THE COUNTIES. 85 

set before us, might have been set before a king — 
'twas a magnificent meal, consisting of hot leg of 
mutton, peas and potatoes, plum pie, preserve tart, 
and cheese — all of excellent quality, well cooked and 
well served, and total charge for the three, six 
shillings. After mastering that, and discussing the 
map, at half-past four we again shouldered our 
knapsacks, and bidding adieu to our hostess and her 
pretty little child, were "once more on tramp." 
We walked quietly along through pleasant fields 
and shady lanes, and presently came to the little 
village of Shottermill, where, at a little bridge over 
a stream, meet the three counties of Surrey, Sussex, 
and Hampshire ; and henceforth, for a time, our 
road lies in the latter county, our destination beyig, 
of course, Selborne ; and friend Ned's emotions 
as we neared the locum optatissimum, were barely 
restrainable ; " My Uncle's " spirits likewise im- 
proved — he was not particularly enthusiastic about 
the residence of the " Venerable Historian," but he 
could not disguise his satisfaction at our proximity 
to Woolmer Pond. 



8G A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



; 



So we bade adieu, but only for a time, to Surrey* ;1 
and bent our course to Liphook. Here we found 
capital quarters at the " Anchor," a very capacious 
house, and like the "White Horse" at Haslemere, 
a coaching-house in the good old days : there was 
accommodation for forty pair of horses, and be- 
fore the railways came upwards of thirty coaches 
passed it every day. Ichabod ! Ichabod ! the glory 
is departed ! ! Having seen our rooms, and ordered 
tea, and noticed two very pretty maids, we were again <i 
off for a stroll, and turned our steps in the direction i' 
of Bramshott, the church there being an object of ■, 
great interest to all tourists, and Ned wishing to re- |i 
connoitre it with a view to a sketch before breakfast 
on «fche morrow. On our way we passed the seat of 
Mr. Justice Erie, and our conversation was en- 
livened by the company of a couple of " nag-boys," 
as the boys are called who look after the horses in 
the neighbouring forest. They were very intelli- 
gent fellows, with ruddy, healthy countenances, \ 
clean white Sunday smocks, and gaudy neckerchiefs. 
They had been born there, and lived there always ; 



AN IDEA OF PARADISE. 87 

but one of them, when work was bad; having 
previously saved a little money, and being bent on 
seeing the world, made a little trip to Portsmouth 
and back, walking both ways. On another similar 
j occasion he " travelled along in London way," being 
determined to see the great city : he walked all the 
way there and all the way back, had two days of 
intense pleasure, and his total expenses were only 
ten shillings. His bed mostly cost him fourpence, 
and here and there he met with kindness on the 
road — such as a lift or a good supper. He saw but 
a quarter of London, he said, and wished he might 
live there always! When he had finished his 
account of his travels, and replied to Ned's count- 
less interrogatories, I thought I would put in a 
word or two. So I forthwith told them how Miss 
Harriet Martineau's cher ami, Mr. Atkinson, had, 
after much laborious research, arrived at the con- 
clusion that a ploughboy's idea of Paradise and a 
future state, was to sit perpetually on a stile and 
eat fat bacon ; and inquired if they had ever viewed 
that important subject in that very peculiar light 1 



88 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

In reply, I learnt that though they had not applied r 

themselves much to the theological branch of the • 

subject, yet that fat bacon was " moighty good < 

stouf," and now that I had mentioned it, the idea |e 

was not so very bad either ; and I suspect the b 

Rev. Launcelot Bellas, their respected vicar, will : 

have considerable difficulty in eradicating that i 
pTeasurable but heretical impression. 

On our return we had a powerful tea ; but our ■ 

host, a man of great height, and vast development, $ 

and an oily countenance — a sort of cross betwixt ' 

Mr. Daniel Lambert and the Russian Giant at I 
Madame Tussaud's — had had his suspicions most 

needlessly aroused, and instead of our having " the U 

girls " to wait upon us, the bell was always answered H 
by his own great, fat, shuffling, uninteresting person. 

This was a severe trial for " My Uncle," who had a ': 

weakness, as the reader knows, for being waited on | 
by the fair sex ; and indeed for myself — Ned was 

perfectly indifferent, provided he got his money's it 
worth ; but I forgave him when, on asking hope- 
lessly for a newspaper, thinking of course to be pre- 



A FACETIOUS INQUIRY. OV 

sented with the Hampshire Telegraph or the Weekly 
Dispatch, which was the sort of thing we'd had 
to put up with since we left the Temple, he 
handed me the Surrey Standard. It was a 
perfect godsend ; and, as may be imagined, its 
contents were eagerly devoured, though we found 
that matters respecting the war in particular, 
and everything else in general, were in pretty 
much the same state as when we last heard the 
news — a week ago. 

A better bed, and a better night's rest than I 
had in the capacious "Blue Chamber" at the 
"Anchor" never restored or invigorated weary 
mortal; and when Ned popped his head into my 
sanctum at six o'clock on the Monday morning — 
with a facetious inquiry as to whether my slumbers 
had been disturbed by the apparition of a former pro- 
prietor wandering disconsolate through the deserted 
mansion, whom I had hospitably received, and bade 
make himself at home, cheer up, and drown his 

cares in a glass of quinine ! — — - 1 \with an 

announcement that it was a brilliant morning, and 



90 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

a reminder of our agreement to stroll to Bramshott 
before breakfast, — I never left a couch with more 
regret, or tumbled out with greater alacrity ! It 
was a beautiful morning ; and we sauntered through 
the little village, some pleasant fields, and a couple 
of plantations, exchanging a word or two with some 
ancient dames, and distributing occasional coppers 
to pretty, clean-faced children, and presently came 
to the Old Church. 

Ned then, seating himself on a stile, commenced 
his sketch ; and in the meantime, not being gifted 
in that line, I pottered about among the tombs, 
deciphering their short and simple annals, and with 
the view of noting the more remarkable inscrip- 
tions, for the reception whereof I had, at the urgent 
request of a maiden aunt, provided a little book, 
but which up to the present date was entryless. 
In truth the country churchyards exhibit a great 
sameness in their mournful literature. We are told: 
over and over again that "John Brown" was 
"a man of great liberality and a true friend," 
and " Peggy Morrisson," " a virtuous wife and an 



CHURCHYARD EULOGIUMS. 91 

affectionate mother," after which is safe to come 
the everlasting — 

" Affliction sore, long time she bore — 
Physicians skill was vain, 
Till God did please, and death did ease, 
And freed her from her pain." 

If you meet those lines once, you'll meet them a 
dozen times in every village " God's acre " in the 
kingdom. Of many a "Thomas Smith" it is re- 
corded — 

" He was a loving husband and a parent dear ; 
The loss of him was felt severe !" 

and innumerable " Mary Joneses " were persons of 
"great benevolence and practical Christianity." 
Texts of Scripture are plentiful, the favourites being, 
"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord," and 
" The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; 
blessed be the name of the Lord :" and there is no 
lack of poetry — such as that quoted above, eulogistic 
of "Thomas Smith" — the composition of some 
inglorious Milton, well intentioned, no doubt, but 
vague to a degree. Here, however, while "jumping 



92 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

from hollow sounding grave to grave," I lighted 
upon two above the average merit, and worth tran- 
scribing : — 

No. I. 

" This life is like unto a winter's day, 
Some only break their fast, and so away ; 
Others stay dinner, and depart full fed — 
The greatest here, hut sups and goes to bed ! " 

The only difficulty is that the three last lines, 
which are exceedingly good, do not exactly seem 
to follow out the idea started in the first : — 



And No. II. 






Praises on tombs are trifles vainly spent, 
A man's good name is his best monument.' 



While copying the above, we were joined by our 
two nag-boy friends of the day before, not quite so 
gorgeous in their attire, but clean and healthy 
looking, and grinning away, each with a large lump 
of fat bacon in his hand. They were working at a 
farm hard by the church, a very fine old building, 
and, in part, more like an ancestral mansion than 
a farm house — in fact, it seems, as we say of a 



A GLORIOUS CUSTOM. 93 

broken-down tradesman, as if it " had seen better 
days." In a field adjoining it is one of the noblest 
and most magnificent walnut trees I have ever 
seen. After a little gossip, I sent them on their 
way, in great danger of suffocation from an uncon- 
trollable fit of laughter, occasioned by the announce- 
ment of my intention, immediately on my return 
to town, of disposing of all my available property, 
and investing the proceeds in the purchase of a 
field, with a comfortable stile, and an unlimited 
quantity of fat bacon, and so enjoying, to the end 
of my days, a foretaste of the ploughboy's heaven ! 
But Ned, having now finished his sketch, called 
them back to tell them how the great Cobbett, who 
was a regular Hampshire lad like themselves, and 
of whom they had no doubt heard, had laid down 
the golden rule, that he who couldn't eat "fat 
bacon " and drink milk for breakfast, " was only fit 
for an hospital;" and so, continued he, while you 
maintain that glorious custom, you may laugh at 
all the doctors in Christendom, and live as long as 
Methuselah or Old Parr ; and then, trusting a "good 






94 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 






digestion might wait on appetite," we left them J 
and wound our way back to the " Anchor " by a 
different route, and found " My Uncle " in com- 
pany with the ostler (I suspect his situation 's a 
sinecure) going over the extensive range of stabling, i 
and hearing all the wonderful stories of what " used 
to was " in the inn yard " afore the railway come." 
Having "remembered" the old boy in a way he t 
was evidently unaccustomed to, but none the less L 
welcome on that account, we adjourned to break 
fast, a meal which was perfectly unexceptionable, • 
saving that our herculean landlord still put himself 
to the unnecessary trouble of waiting upon us. \ 
But I was not to be done in that way ; and so, when 
Jinis erat, having yet an hour before we started, a 
while " My Uncle " detained him discussing the 
halcyon days of the inn, and Ned was exhorting a 
shock-headed boy under the wide-spreading tree in r -\ 
front of the house, I set off on a voyage of discovery * 
after the pretty little maids. I was resolved to see f- 
them, because our portly landlord seemed determined 
I shouldn't, and also for another reason which re- 






A SEAKCH FOR THE MAIDENS. 95 

quires explanation. The sun, of an afternoon, was 
fearfully hot, and poured down his scorching rays 
upon my unprotected nose with such pertinacity, 
that, there was no disguising the fact, it glowed like 
a live coal ; and as Ned's had long ago passed that 
stage, and its skin was cracking in divers places, 
and I had no remedy for this state of things in my 
knapsack, I began to be rather nervous, and 
anxious for a little cold cream ; likewise, as a liberal 
application of Macassar before starting had long 
since evaporated, and my hair was extremely long 
and uncommon dry, a little oil, or pomade, was not 
a thing to be despised. I had it, therefore, in my 
mind to see if I could possibly prevail upon the 
pretty creatures to assist me in my extremity. 
For the first quarter of an hour the only symptoms 
of life I came across were a venerable hen in an old 
lumber room, and an aged, but not by any means 
venerable, old lady, extremely deaf, and of capacious 
build, bolstered up in a chair in a small recess, with 
a large pair of spectacles on her nose, a large bunch 
of keys hanging from her girdle, a large ledger 



96 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 






before her, and a large cat dozing comfortably in 
the sunny window-sill, all of which combined to 
convince me. she was the mother of my persecutor, 
and my landlady — a supposition which eventually 
proved correct. Disgusted with my inexplicable 
ill-success, and persuaded that that arch villain the 
Pope, the source of all evil in this dispensation, was 
at the bottom of it, I repaired to the blue chamber 
to pack up my knapsack, breathing anathemas 
against Maynooth. Here, as good luck would have 
it, I found one of the objects of my search, looking 
prettier than ever ; and I would that I had the pen 
of a Titmarsh that I might describe her. As it is, 
sensible of my inability to do her justice, I sha'n't 
attempt it, but will leave her, with every confidence, 
to the vivid imagination of my readers. My temper 
immediately recovered its usual serenity, and my 
opinion of the most Holy Father decidedly im- 
proved. Apologising for my intrusion, I came at 
once to the point, and made her the confidante of my 
little anxieties : to my delight she professed herself 
both able and willing to stand my friend at this 






QUITE IREESISTIBLE. 97 

interesting crisis, and skipping merrily from the 
room, presently returned with a precious pot of al- 
mond paste, and a charming bottle of a reddish oil, 
the name of which she had forgotten, and the odour 
whereof was not particularly tempting, but the 
results of which, as exhibited in the glossy ringlets 
before me, were convincing ; and giving her a thou- 
sand thanks, in addition to my usual gratuity — and 
something else into the bargain, which seemed 
quite as acceptable — I proceeded to make the most 
of my remaining quarter of an hour, and priceless 
articles of perfumery. " Why, Ned, bless my soul, 
who have we here 1 Come, sir, come ! key-varlar 1 
Parlyvoo Francy, my fine gentleman ? Have we 
been making friends with the cook, and had our 
head well larded with mutton fat 2 or was it the 
pretty housemaid 1 come, sir, come, don't be bashful ; 
out with it like a man : by George ! how resplen- 
dent we are ! What with your shining head, those 
ghttering whiskers, and that brilliant cap, you're 
quite irresistible, and I think it's as well for Mary's 
peace of mind that our stay at ' The Anchor ' is 

H 



98 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



over. Come, sir, come !" "Well," chimed in Ned, 
"do you know it is to me a matter of great re- 
joicing that I have never had a thimbleful of 
grease on my head since the day I was born ; but of 
course there is no accounting for tastes ; and if our 
friend here is a bit of a dandy, and likes to saturate 
his hair with these stinking pomades, he's very 
welcome ; I can only say, if our landlady to- 
night has any gumption, she'll make 'Pillow-case 
for gentleman with bins cap, 6c?.,' an extra item in 
our little account !" These remarks, though taken 
in the kind spirit that obviously dictated them, yet j 
seemed to demand a reply. I therefore felt it con- | 
sistent with the purest friendship to observe, that I 
was delighted to be the subject of a little innocent 
banter, or in any way to contribute to the general 
hilarity (hear ! hear ! from Mr. Bang, and derisive 
cheers from Ned), and if I was a bit of a dandy, it 
was something that my personal comfort and 
appearance were not losers in consequence, and that 
I preferred an application of oil when I could get 
it, and a clean shave every morning, to a head full 



EVERY MAN IN HIS HUMOUR. 99 

of dust, and a stubbly chin — a friendly allusion to 
Ned, who shaved only on Sunday; and as for 
" My Uncle," I completely shut him up by saying 
that it was perfectly clear that if he could only 
have got up a tolerable excuse, there was nothing 
he'd have liked better than a word with "Mary !" 
(loud and long-continued laughter, during which 
the speaker took a tea-spoonful of quinine, and 
buckled on his knapsack). 

And now, bidding adieu to our host, bellowing 
one to the deaf old landlady, and looking one to 
Mary, Ned made the original remark that we were 
u once more on tramp/' and we all jogged on in 
excellent spirits — " My Uncle " from his proximity 
to "the Pond" — Ned, because the evening would see 
us at Selborne — and myself pleased enough with 
both contingencies, redolent with oil, and happy in 
the possession of two additional bottles in my 
wallet. Soon we came to a wild heather waste, 
beautiful in the shining sun, and fragrant as Araby 
the Blest, and which, as a " wild heather waste," is 
probably without an equal ; but when the ordnance 

i Lore. h2 



100 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

map assured us it was "Woolmer Forest," it 
vividly recalled my disappointment with the forest 
of Skiddaw in Cumberland, and that of Hainault 
in Essex, and the account of that wonderful 
" Aboriginal Wood " that Mr. Thackeray went to 
see in the Sister Isle — for there were no trees 
whatever ! It made me tremble for " My Uncle f 
for if this was the " Forest," of which Ned had 
indulged such rapturous anticipations, what was 
" the Pond " likely to be ? The sell, indeed, was > 
borne philosophically by Ned, but then he had :; 
Selbome to fall back upon ! while Hope had no 
more nattering tales for Mr. Bang, who could 
certainly do nothing less under the circumstances B 
than take the very next coach to London. Dismal | 
forebodings seemed indeed to possess the worthy 
gentleman, for his flow of spirits suddenly ebbed, 
and his unoffending shoulders suffered, in con- 
sequence, from the perpetual shifting of his bag 
and umbrella. Coming at length to a slight 
eminence, Ned broke forth with a joyful cry of 
"the Pond!" and our Uncle brightened up. It . 



THE WISHED-FOR SPOT. 101 

was at once decided that, leaving our incumbrances 
in a large bunch of furze, we should make straight 
for the wished-for spot ; but Ned and " My Uncle " 
differing as to the route to be taken, they branched 
j off in opposite directions ; and I, thinking one about 
: as much right as the other, carried out a little idea of 
my own, and after twenty minutes' struggling with 
prickly furze and tangling underwood, found myself 
in what might have been called the Great Desert, 
with two cows up to their knees in sand in my 
immediate neighbourhood, and a small speck in the 
distance, which my experienced eye decided was 
Ned, but nothing whatever was to be seen of our 
venerated relative. " Well," says Ned, coming up, 

"here's a pretty go not to say 'Pond,' Hope's 

promises again deceiving, and 'My Uncle', once 
more unceremoniously awakened from a pleasant 
dream. By the way, where is he"? What can 
have become of him 1 Just fancy him amid this 
trackless wild, without a path, without a compass, 
and without — his umbrella ! Take my word for it, 
he'll be straying into .the main road, and mounting 



102 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

the first coach that passes." I profess my intense l 
anxiety respecting him, but that as to offering any p 
suggestion as to his whereabouts 

"I do not know what is become 
Of him, more than the Pope of Rome," 

though I shrewdly suspect I can guess where the * 
Holy Father would wish the honest gentleman, sup- 
posing there was water enough in it to come over 5 
his head. After loitering about for some time await- 
ing in vain the apparition of the white hat, we re- - 
traced our steps with some difficulty to the clump 
of furze, and there, finding the bag and umbrella 
were missing, the mystery that enveloped the pro- 
ceedings of " My Uncle " was increased. Ned main- 
tained that, chagrined with his disappointment, he 
had taken the coach, while I thought it possible he ' r 1 
might have given us the slip, and cut back to 
" Mary " at " The Anchor ! " Each thus persuaded 
of the correctness of his own opinion, we were agree- l 
ably surprised by coming suddenly on our missing 
friend, in earnest conversation with an old game- 
keeper. He declared he had made his way down to ' 



A LONELY DOMAIN. 103 

the pond by his short road long before we did, and 
being supremely disgusted with it, had made his 
way back again as quick as he could, when, meeting 
the old man, he had taken his traps and gone to 
| Have a chat under a shady hedge, We took this 
I version of the matter for granted — though we have 
j never yet felt a comfortable persuasion of its cor- 
rectness, having a deep-set conviction that he never at 
anytime exceeded a circumference of three yards from 
the furze-bush — and soon joined in the conversation. 
From what the old man said, and from what I've 
read, I gather that this "lonely domain," some seven 
miles long, by two and a half wide, consisting " en- 
tirely of sand, covered with heath and fern, some- 
what diversified with hills and dales, but without 
having one standing tree in the whole extent," is 
very famous for game, and that in winter the pond, 
which is then full, is crowded with wild fowl ; also, 
that our informant was the gamekeeper, and that he 
was expecting a visit the next day from the Lords 
Commissioners of Her Majesty's Woods and Forests, 
to receive his report. The place was once celebrated 






104 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

for the heathcock or black game, "which," says 
Gilbert "White, "I have heard old people say 
abounded much before shooting flying became so 
common;" and also for the red deer, respecting 
which the pleasant story runs, that " Queen 
Anne, as she was journeying on the Portsmouth 
road, did not think them beneath her royal regard, 
for she came out of the great road at Liphook, which 
is just by, and reposing herself on a bank smoothed 
for that purpose, lying about half a mile to the east 
of Woolmer Pond, and still called ' Queen's Bank,' 
saw with great complacency and satisfaction the 
whole herd of them brought by the keepers along { 
the vale before her, consisting of about five hundred I 
head." The pond is near a mile and a half round, and 
from what we had read of it> " My Uncle " had great 
reason in his complaints. "We were led to suppose 
that it was always full of water, waterfowl, fish, and 
cattle, whereas all we saw after twenty minutes' 
struggling and scratching, was a very limited area of 
a dirty fluid, and two cows half buried in the sand, 
and certainly destined to expire before they reached 



I 



" MY UNCLE " IS EXCITED. 105 

it. And so bidding good-bye to the old boy, with a 
hope that the Royal Commissioners would " come it 
handsome " on the morrow, we strolled on through 
the little retired villages of Greatham andEmpshott, 
seeing the churches, which are pretty, but nothing 
striking, and pottering about the graveyards, which 
contributed nothing to my inscription-book. Ned, 
however, determined to make a sketch of Empshott; 
and asking me to produce my poetic gems, " My 
Uncle " who " 'bominates potry, sir," sauntered to- 
wards the village. 

Presently, the sketch being finished (Mrs. Norton's 
" Recollections " having received an " encore," and 
" Love Not " and " Love On " having been 
equally hissed off the stage by my unromantic 
audience), we looked around, and observing our 
friend approaching us in a state of evident excite- 
ment, and gesticulating vehemently with his bag 
and umbrella, we naturally came to the conclusion 
that he had seen " What's that ! " again, and began 
to think it might be a serious matter after all. For 
some time his excitement was too great for words — 



106 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

if he had seen the dreaded apparition, 'twas clearly 
a case of " More, sir, and worse," and our Uncle in 
his lowest depth had fonnd a lower still. At length 
the mountain conceived, and a " ridiaidus mus " 
came out with great gravity and stateliness, and we it 
leamt that the sole cause of his agitation was his [ 
having met, and fallen into conversation with a party 
with a stick and bundle, who having commenced pro- : 
ceedings by volunteering the intelligence that his % 
name was " Tarvar" — " Theophilus Tarvar " — (if i 
he'd known " My Uncle's " unfortunate impediment 
he'd never have ventured on that Christian name), 
and that it was "a remarkable fine day, and no 
mistake," finished by insulting him — " insulting me, 
sir, and asked me if I was in the tea line ! — adding 
that he was himself, and offering me a card, saying 
something about, though on pleasure he was bent, 
he'd still an eye on business. I was disgusted, sir, 
and demanded which way he was going — that I 
might act accordingly — when he actually said he 
was going to the ' Queen's Arms ' at Selborne, to j 
see if he could get ' an order,' and should probably 






"what's that?" 107 

stop there a night or two. Confound him," said 
"My Uncle," "he'll be sticking to us, as if we 
were ' all alive oh's ! ' and plaguing us with his 

'cards' and orders ; d him ! Hang it," continued 

he, "what the deuce is there in my appearance 
that could make the man take me for a grocer ? If 
he'd taken you for a tailor, or Tye there for a 
cheap barber, he'd have had some wit in him. Con- 
found his impertinence ! May he live all the days 
of his life, and repent it ever after." 

Seeing he was in no mood to be reasoned with, 
we dropped the subject, trusting that, as it seemed 
we must have his company for some little time, the 
poor man might not be so black as he was painted, 
and were deep in a discussion of the merits and 
demerits of that eighth and greatest "Lamp of Archi- 
tecture," Mr. Ruskin, when — 

" God bless my soul," said " My Uncle," ". what's 
that ? " 

Sure enough there was something visible this 
time. Standing very quietly in the middle of the 
road — for all the world as if it had growed there — 



108 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

was a gray horse, of peculiar build, and on it was an - 

individual, rather stout than otherwise, in a blue ' 

coat, and scarf round his waist, with long, streaming 

ends, white ducks, and a green wide-awake. "Hush !" 

whispered " My Uncle ; " " let's catch him, and make 

- 
sure of him. I'd give worlds for it. I never had 

such a view of him before." 

Ned and I both crept stealthily forward, and 
Ned wasn't a yard behind him, when off the animal t 
bolted at tremendous speed, its rider waving his 
wide-awake frantically with one hand and an old 
newspaper in the other, which the breeze presently 
snatched from him, and I had the satisfaction of 
picking up, and found to be an outside sheet of the 
Times, of May the — , 184 — , and contained an 
advertisement, much thumbed, and with many ad- 
ditional notes of admiration, which led us to the 
conclusion that he must have been the " Augus 
tus ! ! " who about that time was earnestly en 
treated to " return " to his " disconsolate Susan and 
afflicted family," when " all should be overlooked ! " 
but who, it is needless to say, didn't, and had doubt- 






THE LOST AUGUSTUS. 109 

less been roaming about the country ever since. 
Where he went to, unless to the dogs, I know not. 
We never saw him more ; he went from our gaze 
like a " beautiful dream : " but Mr. Bang was con- 
tinually expecting him, and he was a weight on his 
mind till our journey's end. And thus, somewhat 
excited (" My Uncle " making no further allusion 
to our " unepisodical, unincidental " progress), and, 
from being unsuccessful in obtaining refreshments, 
hungry as starved rats, we arrived at the " Queen's 
Arms, Selborne, by George Hole," where was to 
be had good entertainment for man and beast, and 
which possessed the still higher recommendation of 
being nearly opposite the abode of that eminent 
naturalist and divine, Gilbert White. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Selborne —First Impressions — The Church — In Memoriam 
— The Hanger — The Dinner — "Which Part do you 
Prefer?" — White's House and Grounds — The Priory. 

To write about Selborne is both an easy and a 
difficult matter — it is easy enough to jot down 
one's impressions of the place, what you saw and 
what you did, and copy a page or two out of 
"White" — and yet, so many are the pens that 
have described it (every magazine and miscellany 
that has appeared since the " venerable historian," 
as they delight to call him, first brought his native - 
village into prominence, having felt it a duty ' 
to its subscribers and the public to present them 
with an article on " Gilbert White and Selborne "), 
that it is difficult to say anything new about it, or 
treat it with any originality. The only circum- * 
stance on which I can rely as a " new effect, never 
before attempted," in any account of the place, 
wherewith slightly to interest the reader, and re- 






NED ON HIS LEGS. Ill 

concile him to its hacknied historical and topogra- 
phical associations, is the fortunate presence of Ned 
and "My Uncle" — not to mention Theophilus 
Tarvar — without whose enlivening company I am 
convinced one might as well expect to find talent 
in the Daily Nuisance or brilliancy in the Morning 
Toast, as interest or amusement in the present 
chapter. 

No sooner had we unbuckled our knapsacks, and 
ensconced ourselves in- some roomy high-backed 
chairs by the open window, to rest us a bit after 
our ramble, enjoy the pleasant prospect and Sabean 
odours, and await with calmness such refreshment 
as our landlord, a smiling, red-faced man with a 
profusion of black hair and whisker, might deem it 
most to the credit of his establishment to serve up, 
than Ned, suddenly getting on his legs, proposed an 
immediate adjournment to the tomb of the histo- 
rian, as an appropriate inauguration of our happy 
visit, and a slight tribute of admiration and respect 
to the memory of a good and learned man ; seeing, 
however, that this precipitous course was by no 



112 A SAUNTEK THROUGH SURREY. 

means agreeable to " My Uncle," I moved the pre- 
vious question, which being carried by a majority 
of one, he had to yield the point, and revenged 
himself by retiring from the conversation and a 
vigorous onslaught on the bread and cheese. All 
at once, in the midst of our repast, the sun with- 
drew, the sky was overcast, and a steady decided 
drizzle set in, which looked to our astounded vision 
as if it would go on for a month. In this frightful 
state of things, Mr. Hole was summoned to explain 
the phenomenon, and give his opinion on the wea- 
ther, and who, on reaching the presence, grinned 
profusely, and thought it was a soaker, and no mis- 
take; and a little girl being despatched on the 
errand, presently returned with the intelligence 
that the glass stuck pertinaciously at " much rain." 
Ned, though inclined at first to be broken-hearted, 
and viewing it as a natural consequence of our not 
following his advice, soon rallied under the com- 
bined influence of good fare and the genius loci, 
into a state of melancholy cheerfulness, and in spite 
of the rain, went out for a stroll into the fields, 






A SOCIABLE EVENING. 113 

j reserving the "Lions" for a state visit on the 
morrow ; " My Uncle" complained of a headache 
and the rheumatism, and covering his face with his 
yellow bandanna, was soon fast asleep ; and I set to 
work on the journal, and wrote copious extracts 
therefrom to divers friends and relatives, who were 
requested to forward their letters to await us at 
Farnham. Then we had tea, which was not so 
jovial as might be, and then Mr. Bang and I had 
some brandy-and- water, and 

" So we kept our spirits up 
By pouring spirits down ! " 

and got rather more sociable as the evening 
advanced ; and after an inquiry as to the funds, a 
thought to the washerwoman, and a heartfelt prayer 
to the clerk of the weather, and seeing nothing of 
" T. T.," we retired to roost, our first impression of 
Selborne being that it was a charming place in fine 
weather, and an abominable hole (no reflection on 
our host) in bad, and that in one item at least, the 
" swarm of children," it had not degenerated since 
the days of White. 

i 



114 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

Although, as I have said, it didn't much matter . 
to Ned whether it was wet or fine, provided he was 
in the country, yet, as everything has its limits, it - 
was obvious that our friend — having thus reached, b 
through unchequered sunshine and perpetual 
zephyrs, his Ultima Thule, his promised land, the 
burden of his hopes, the culminating issue of his ■- 
deepest desires, Whiteonian Selborne — regarded 
this unexpected change with less than his usual 
philosophy, and that the buoyancy of his spirits 
and the serenity of his temper were sensibly r ' 
affected. " My Uncle," too, who had endured ' 
much, trusting to its all being eventually made up 
for by the Great Pond, and having then found 
Hope's promises deceiving, nothing but rain was 
wanted to complete his mortification, and determine 
him to " take the next coach," which resolution he J 
accordingly loudly announced on retiring. And I ( 
must confess that it was a general damper, that I 
was no exception to the melancholy rule — 

" It's hardly in a body's power 
To keep at times from being sour; " 



AN ENCHANTING MORNING. 115 

and that my feelings were extremely depressed, saving 
a sensation of lumbago, which was painfully lively, 
and required a prolonged application of spirits of 
camphor and an extra dose of quinine to get rid. 
of; and therefore it was with the intensest joy, on 
a joint and several account, that on waking at an 
early hour in the morning I found the weather and 
the country if possible more glorious and enchanting 
than they were before ; the rain had done wonders : 
everything looked fresh, and green, and fat ; the 
birds sang joyously ; the cattle revelled in the sweet 
moist herbage ; and all nature awakened and re- 
joiced ; — and so did Ned, who, bolting into my room 
as I was gazing on the grateful prospect, embraced 
me fraternally, and declared it was superb, that it 
was, " without exception, the finest day he'd ever 
seen," and that he was as happy as a prince ; and 
so did Tarvar, whom, on returning from an early 
ramble, we observed in the distance seated on a 
stile, without his coat, and enjoying his matutinal 
pipe ; and so did " My Uncle," whom we found 
playing in the " parlour " with our landlord's little 

i 2 



116 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

ones, oblivious of his rheumatics of the night before, 
and his solemn determination to take the coach, 
and who, albeit with "a stammering tongue," 
joined in no " feeble numbers " in our happy chorus. 
There being still three-quarters of an hour to 
breakfast, we sought out the old clerk, and under 
his guidance visited the church, a very plain and 
simple building, dedicated to the Virgin Mary, of 
the early English style of architecture, and then 
undergoing restoration, the left aisle and the roof 
having been for some time in a very dilapidated 
and tottering condition ; and Ned was extremely 
disgusted at London workmen being employed in- 
stead of local people, forgetting, as I suggested, that 
there were no such skilled workmen in the village, 
and also that London builders are as fond of a job , 
in the country, and a mouthful of fresh air, as 
London barristers of their spring assizes, summer 
circuits, and autumn rambles. The church is with- - 
out adornment of any sort ; nor is there anything :■. 
striking, with the exception of the clock (!) and the 
old Saxon pillars in the nave which support the r 






SELBORNE CHURCH. 117 

roof, and are "short, and squat, and thick," like, 
for aught we know, for his personal appearance has 
not come down to us, " the illustrious man who," 
&c, and certainly like the old green yew-tree out- 
side, and, are like everything else, beauties and 
defects, covered with the whitewash so plentifully 
and impartially dealt out by rural ecclesiastical 
authorities. Some ten or twelve years ago, the 
present vicar, the Rev. Fred. Parsons, superin- 
tended the restoration of a great part of it, and, 
among other improvements, scraped off the white- 
wash from the entrance door (it is to be hoped he 
improved the opportunity of the recent operations, 
and scraped it all off), and restored to the light of 
day some very elaborate hinges, which have since 
become objects of great interest to manufacturers 
and visitors. Having dropped a trifle into the 
poor-box, we proceeded to inspect the humble stone 
which marks the spot where repose in peace the 
mortal remains of the illustrious Gilbert. "My 
Uncle " and I, out of regard to our friend's feelings, 
presently withdrew to a neighbouring stile, and in 



118 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

consequence I am unable to report the spontaneous 
and eloquent rhapsody of which he, doubtless, 
delivered himself. Then we took a view of the old • 
yew, which is really a magnificent tree, oval in 
shape, and measuring twenty-four feet in girth. 
" It is," writes White, " a male tree, which in the 
spring sheds clouds of dust, and fills the atmosphere 
around with its farina," and, continues he, " as far 
as we have been able to observe, the males of this 
species become much larger than the females ; and 
it has so fallen out that most of the yew-trees in the 
churchyards of this neighbourhood are males ; but 
this must have been matter of mere accident, since 
men, when they first planted yews, little dreamed 
that there were sexes in trees." I may add, that I 
don't think they bother themselves much about it, 
now they do know it, though of course his reverence 
observed proper etiquette in the laying out of his 
own grounds, and planted " lady " and "gentleman" 
in due proximity, and gave his blessing on the happy 
couple. And then to breakfast. 

Our first visit after that meal was satisfactorilv 



A VISIT TO THE HANGER. 119 

concluded, was — in accordance with the plan of opera- 
tions which Ned, under the enlivening influence of 
a glass of water, and at the expense of much noc- 
turnal tallow, had concocted — to the Hanger, a 
beech-clad eminence rising abruptly at the end of a 
meadow in the rear of the historian's house, of 
which it has a beautiful view, as likewise of the 
village, and which derives its name from the lazy, 
lounging, idle disposition of the said beeches. The 
ascent is by a long zigzag path, accommodated with 
rough benches here and there, on one of which 
White is said to have frequently reposed his vene- 
rable limbs when wearied with the exciting pur- 
suit of birdsnesting ; and as the identical one could 
not be sworn to by a small boy, who was our in- 
formant, Ned was careful to squat down on them 
all to make sure he didn't miss it. Arrived at the 
top, we found a sort of flat table land, with many 
sheep and horses browsing, who, on my appearance 
among them, note-book in hand, began capering and 
attitudinising, as though taking me for a second 
White, anxious to observe their distinguishing 



120 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

peculiarities. This down or sheep-walk is, says the 
historian, " a pleasing park-like spot, of about one 
mile by half that space, jutting out on the verge of L 
the hill country, where it begins to break down into [ 
the plains, and commanding a very engaging view, \, 
being an assemblage of hill, dale, woodlands, heath, 
and water" — which latter item so effectually suc- 
ceeded in re-establishing " My Uncle's" spirits, that 
he monopolised the conversation for a whole hour 
with an uninterrupted now of hunting reminiscences 
and facetious anecdotes, of which I was a most 
attentive and willing, but the only, listener — Ned 
loitering behind, thinking such conversation un- 
called for and out of place, revolving in his mind 
the charms of rural seclusion, and associating every 
stick and bramble with the venerable, &c. After 
rambling about for a couple of hours, trying to catch 
the ponies, frightening the sheep out of their wits, 
and vociferating recitations from poetic gems, we 
descended the murderous path, and again bent our 
steps to Mr. Hole's, intent on dinner (of which, for 
reasons shortly to be stated, great anticipations 



EVERYTHING IN KEEPING. 121 

were entertained), and after passing through a 
meadow or two, gained the road whence was an 
admirable view of the Hanger, and which, as we 
viewed it under most favourable circumstances, and 
was in itself a striking object, made that deep im- 
pression upon us that the beautiful in nature always 
effects. 

And now I must confess, that having accidentally 
stumbled on Tarvar after breakfast, I had, unbe- 
known to Mr. Bang, invited that gentleman to join 
us at our early dinner. It was to be a grand affair, 
and I thought the more the merrier. For the good 
of the house, as we intended stopping there two 
nights, and for our own private gratification, we 
.must have a dinner ; and as Mr. Bang said, " may 
we live all the days of our lives, and live well while 
we're about it," and was never behindhand at a 
good feed ; and as Ned was anxious to have every- 
thing in keeping, acknowledging that, 

" There are times when it will never do 
To ape the stingy, mean, penurious crew," 

and so relaxed his purse-strings for a dinner in 



122 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

honour of White ; and as the bill of fare was left 
entirely to the landlady, whose healthy, buxom 
appearance, as well as that of every member of her 
household, not omitting the pet of the family, who 
had evidently been weaned on steaks and porter, 
inspired us with the greatest confidence; I say, 
putting this and that together, when " that tocsin 
of the soul, the dinner bell," announced the arrival 
of that 

" Soft hour that wakes the wish and melts the heart," 

it was with a feeling of intense and justifiable 
excitement that we emerged from our apart- . 
ments, and arranged ourselves round the hospitable 
board. 

" Why, bless my soul ! " burst out " My Uncle I 
(we were waiting for grace), "there's that Tib — ji 
Tib — Tibbie — bottomus — what's his name ! What I 
the deuce does he do here % I thought he was the : 

waiter, by Jove I You've made a mistake Tiddle 

lollipops. Confound the fellow — he hasn't got a name 
a gentleman can pronounce. You've made a mis- 






A RECONCILIATION. 123 

take, sir — private apartments ! " and " My Uncle " 
moved as though he would ring the bell. 

" Calm yourself, my dear sir — calm yourself," 
entreated Tarvar ; " you will lose your relish for 
what I am sure will be an excellent dinner, and ex- 
citement will certainly interfere with your digestion. 
Calm yourself; it's all right — no intrusion. ' Called in 
in a regular way,' as the late Sir Robert Peel would 
have said, favoured with polite invitation from mutual 
friend Mr. Blue Cap — gratefully accepted — capital 
appetite — eat a spare breakfast on purpose, and 
walked about ever since. Pray be seated, gentle- 
men, pray be seated. Here's thanks to the Giver 
of all good things. Pray be seated." 

But Mr. Bang wouldn't be seated till assured 
'twas all clear and above board : when satisfied on 
that point, however, he seemed to take to Tarvar 
better than I had dared to hope ; it was clear he'd 
had his revenge in mistaking him for the waiter. 
At the bottom of the table were some cold beef and 
pickles, and glittering pewter covers being removed, 
disclosed the residue of the course : a couple of 



124 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

roast chickens, some bacon, peas, and potatoes, and - 
the man must have been, as Tarvar said, in very i 
evil case, or else a Frenchman, who could rise from 
the table while there was anything left. Ned was [ 
particularly delighted with the appearance of the '' 
bacon, which was served up on a large boiled cab- 
bage leaf, spread entire on the dish. 

" Sir," says " My Uncle " to Tarvar, as a stranger, 
severing a wing with great dexterity, " which part 
do you prefer 1 " 

" Ah ! my dear sir," responded Tarvar, " there 
you have me ! Much as I like chickens, and 
especially roast chickens, I always dread the raising 
of a cover, for fear they should be beneath it. It's 
a long story, sir " (seeing " My Uncle " pausing), 
" and if you'll help your young friends first, I'll tell \ 
it you in the meantime : — When I was a boy, I 
went to the Bradford Grammar School, and often f 
dined with an uncle who was a mercer in the town 
— Uncle Jack. I remember dining there one Wed- [ 
nesday, half-holiday, you know. Well, we'd roast 
chickens for dinner ; my uncle helped the ladies, 



uncle jack's chickens. 125 

and then lie came to me. ' Theophilus,' said he, 
1 what part do you prefer ! ' * Oh ! any part, uncle, 
thankee,' says I, ' I'm not partickler.' He helped 
me in silence, and then laying down his knife and 
fork, ' I must say,' says he, ' I must say, I do like 
a boy when he's asked what part he'll have, to have 
a choice. I shouldn't have asked you what part 
you preferred unless I'd meant you to select a part. 
Any part ! Any part is no part ; and, what's more, 
sir, it's no answer.' Of course this spoilt my dinner 
and my half-holiday, and I left Uncle Jack's a 
sadder and a wiser boy. Well, the next half-year 
my cousin Tom went to our school, and one Sunday 
Uncle Jack asked us out to dinner. Sure enough, 
we went, and, sure enough, there were chickens — 
roast chickens. My uncle helped the ladies, and 
then he comes to me. ' Theophilus, my boy ! what 
part do you prefer V 'A leg, please, uncle,' said I, 
as blithe and bold as brass. All right, this time, 
thinks I to myself. He helped me in silence. 
' Tom,' said he, ' have you any choice ? ' ' No, 
thank you, uncle ! I don't at all mind ! ' * That's 



126 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

right, my boy ! ' said my uncle. ' I must say (look- 
ing at me) I don't like to see schoolboys particular. 
I fear, Theophilus, you've been better fed than 
taught.' Of course I was floored ; but this time it 
didn't spoil my dinner, and I left the house again a 
wiser, but not a sadder man ! And so you see," 
continued Tarvar, " the fix you put me in ; and as 
I see it's my turn now, I beg to throw myself on the f 
consideration of the court ! " 

Battling on in this way, Travar kept us in good 
humour and merriment, which was increased when 
Ned, who's almost a pledged teetotaler, ordered up } 
a couple of bottles of hop champagne ! and seemed ' 
as fond of it as any of us. White was evidently 
working wonders ! I was expecting he'd propose a f 
" Hop Champagne Supper," and " My Uncle " play- }, 
fully rallied him on his ruinous and extravagant 
habits. Rising at last, Travar promising to drop in 
in the evening and have a glass, we proceeded to 
view the grounds of " The Wakes," as White's house 
is called, in company with our landlord. It has 
now, after being in the possession of his family for 






GILBERT WHITE'S HOUSE. 127 

many generations, passed into the hands of a 
stranger ; but though a stranger, yet one with a 
kindred spirit and partiality for the same pursuits, 
Professor Bell, the well-known dentist, of London. 
His courtesy to visitors is great, permitting them 
to wander about the grounds, and inspect at leisure 
the relics of the great Gilbert. The place is, indeed, 
perfection ; the house is old fashioned and low, 
nearly covered with ivy and creepers. Spread out 
before it like a carpet is a velvet lawn surrounded 
with lovely flowers, and at the end of it is the old 
"sun-dial," and near it the "juniper" and "oak" 
trees, mentioned in the history, and there is also a 
large hornbeam of eccentric growth. Leading from 
the garden to a charming summer-house, lined with 
moss and dried heather, and inclosed with maple- 
trees, the favourite resort of the historian, is a 
narrow brick path, allowing of but one person to 
walk at a time, and which was made by order of his 
father, who was careful of his health, and lived be- 
fore the introduction of American over-shoes, that 
he might be able to take his " constitutional " in 



128 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

unfavourable weather without wetting his feet. 
Then ' come some verdant meadows, and finally the 
whole is shut in by the hanger of beeches, " the 
most lovely of all the forest trees," in White's 
opinion, which puts the finishing touch to this 
terrestrial paradise. There was but one drawback 
to our otherwise unalloyed satisfaction, and that 
was, that the professor, for some unknown and in- 
conceivable reason, has erected near the house a 
small conservatory with no beauty in its design, 
utterly out of keeping, and a perfect eyesore. We 
then prolonged our walk through the pleasant valley 
of Bourne, which somewhat resembles the scenery of 
the Derbyshire vales, and led us in time to the site 
of an old priory, attached in the days of " the old 
religion " to the church of Selborne, but which 
shared the fate of most religious houses, and was 
suppressed a.d. 1468. A fine old farm now occu- 
pies the ground, and the only memorials existing 
are an old stone coffin discovered thirty years ago, 
and some encaustic tiles which were found near it. 
We were conducted over the garden by a remark- 



A HOSPITABLE CICERONE. 129 

ably nice and hospitable woman, who invited us to 
enter and have some refreshment, but which, having 
ordered our tea at half-past eight, we, with many- 
thanks, declined, and returned, by a different route, 
to " The Queen's Arms." 



CHAPTEK IX. 

A Severe Loss — "A Nicht wf Taevar" — The Hanger- 
Exit Tarvae — The Pleystow — Crisis of Ned's White . 
Fever — The Departure. 

Arrived at our hostelry, distressing tidings awaited 
us. During our absence, two maiden ladies had 
called to inspect the apartments, with a view of , 
taking them for a month at the commencement of 
the ensuing week, and after admiring the pleasant . 
prospect from the sitting-room window, and the 
general conveniences of that luxurious retreat, where • 
our tea was temptingly laid out, became suddenly 
enamoured of, and eventually walked off with a _. 
plum cake, of which I use no exaggerated language, 
when, borrowing a phrase from Ned, I assert, on 
the experience of two lunches, a tea, and a break- 
fast, that it was " without exception the very finest " 
that ever was baked ! I think I may say I regretted 
the premature departure of that cake, to the full as 
much as that of any of the sweet things, and the 






A GREAT COMMOTION. 131 

dear things, of which old ladies, or Time, or any 
other " edax rerum " have in the course of a short, 
but not unchequered career, deprived me ! It was 
but a poor consolation to know that the blue cap 
hadn't been in their way ; 'twould have been safe 
to have been lost if it had — but still it was a consola- 
tion. Ned was completely upset by the discovery, 
and requested Mr. Hole to inform him whether we 
were his guests or no ? — whether the cake would be 
charged in the bill or no ? — and finally, what he 
thought Gilbert White would have said to him had 
that illustrious man been still alive 1 To all which 
urgent questions Mr. Hole irreverently replied by 
very audible chuckles and very perceptible grins. 
And as to Mr. Bang, it was sufficient for him to 
know that it was a lady who had appropriated the 
treasure, and all that refined and accomplished gentle- 
man did, was to raise his hat politely, and mutter 
some unintelligible quotation about " lovely woman." 
I Barring the absence of cake, tea was pronounced by 
Ned to be, like everything else at Selborne, a " great 
success ; " a remark which no one disputed ; " My 

J 2 



132 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

Uncle " parenthetically observing, that though the 
personal charms of our Abigail were not overwhelm- , 
ingly attractive, and though he should have pre- 
ferred her being on the model of " Mary at the 
Anchor," yet, " thank heaven ! she isn't a man = 
waiter ! " and trusting " his private grief might 
never affect the public welfare," declared his inten- 
tion to " grin and bear it." As if to aid him in that 
laudable endeavour, comes a knock at the door, 
followed in due time by the person of Theophilus 
Tarvar, who presented himself, as he said, " in pur- 
suance of notice," to enjoy "the feast of reason and 
the flow of soul," and trusted that "the conversa- 
tion might never flag, and the bottle never loiter.' 

As he said this, observing there were no bottles 
on the table — " Ah ! " said he, " you'll excuse me 
That unfortunate observation of mine reminds me 
forcibly of my friends, the Smiths." 

" Oh ! let's hear about the Smiths, by all means," 
said Mr. Bang, who is very fond of a " story." L 

"Why, you see," resumed Tarvar, "my friend 
Smith and his wife are not the best matched couple 



A SPIRITUOUS CONVERSATION. 133 

in the world ; how they get on in private, I tremble 
to think, but I know they exhibit their ' little tempers' 
in public frequently enough. I've spent the even- 
ing with them occasionally, and among other little 
peculiarities, the following has always come off with 
great eclat. Towards the end of the entertainment, 
ray lady has a tray placed before her, holding several 
decanters of wine and spirits. Having attended to 
the wishes of the rest of the company, ' And now, 
Mr. Smith,' she would say, ' what can I offer you V 

" ' What have you got, Mistress Smith V her lord 
would inquire. 

" { Why, Mr. Smith, I have some port, and some 
sherry, some brandy, and some Hollands.' 

" ' Well, then, I will take a glass of your rum, 
Mistress Smith.' 

" ' But I have no rum, Mr. Smith.' 

" ' Then what have you got, Mistress Smith V 

" ' Why, Mr. Smith, I have some port, and some 
sherry, some brandy, and some Hollands.' 

" ' Well, then, I will take a glass of your Madeira, 
Mistress Smith.' 



134 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

" ' But I have no Madeira, Mr. Smith.' 

" ' Then what have you got, Mistress Smith 1 ' 

" And so on, till Mr. Smith had exhausted the 
names of all known liqueurs under the sun, when he \ 
would compassionately express a desire for a glass 
of port ! [ 

" And," concluded Tarvar, " how many decanters 
they break against the wall, after we're gone, as I '* 
said before, I tremble to think !" 

Here, " My Uncle," noticing that there was no 
choice at present before our guest, ringing the bell, 
asked that gentleman " what he would prefer 1" 

" Ah ! my dear sir," said he, " there you have 

— me ! I was " but here he suddenly checked 

himself, and began poking the fire (for the evenings 
were cold and chilly, and we indulged in that 
luxury) with much vehemence. 

Ned immediately suggested "hop champagne!" 
but Tarvar declared that though very good at din- 
ner (not but what he would have infinitely preferred 
a bottle of " Bass"), 'twas impossible now, and pro- 
nounced in favour of " Old Tom." 



A MATTER OF TASTE. 135 

"Tom let it be," said "My Uncle," and "three 
glasses cold " were ordered accordingly. 

Ned, as usual, declined the dissipation, and con- 
tented himself with aqua pura, giving us at the 
same time the gratuitous and satisfactory intelli- 
gence, that looking along the vista of " youth and 
total abstinence," he distinguished — barring acci- 
dents — the goal of a hale old age, "like unto a 
lusty winter, frosty but kindly," for the sole and 
sufficient reason that— • 

"In his youth he never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors to his blood ; " 

finishing by tossing off a tumbler of that " cheer- 
ing" beverage, smacking his lips lusciously, and 
sinking back in his easy chair, — >■ 

"Shut up in measureless content !" 
" Shakwrn ha song goo ! " said Mr. Bang, who had 
got up a French phrase or two, since la belle alliance; 
" better belly burst than good drink lost ! But 
moderation is a virtue !" and he rang the bell to 
hasten matters. 

Presently, our attendant, a staid, solemn female, 



136 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

whom Mr. Bang, for the life of him, couldn't 
address as " Mary," or " Susan," or by any familiar 
appellation, appears with the grog, and was half out .? 
of the room again, when Tarvar shouted out, " I l: 
say, Polly, hi !" 

Polly, looking more solemn than ever, comes back 
a pace, and asks the gentleman's wishes. 

" Why ! I say, Polly, which do they put in first, 
in your house, the gin or the water ?" 

" Why, the gin, sir, in course," replied Polly, con- 
clusively. 

"Aye ! then," said Tarvar, triumphantly, " I shall 
be coming to it directly, Polly ! Go and tell Hole ! " 

And Polly retired in a high state of virtuous 
indignation. 

" From that little episode, gentlemen," said Tar- \ 
var, " you may learn the salutary maxim, l Always 
mix your own grog.' " 

That eccentric and ready individual pursued his 
anecdotal career, without stoppage and without ; r 
end • he had a story at the shortest notice ; for the 
simplest and commonest action a case in point. 
For instance, having twice rung the bell for an 



A SLIGHT MISTAKE. 137 

additional glass, during a temporary absence of 
" My Uncle," and no one coming, he resolved him- 
self into a committee of inquiry, and bolting out of 
the room, came in sudden contact with our portly 
relative. 

"Holloa, Hole !" said he, "what's the matter 
with the bell ? I don't mean Polly, you know ; she 
ain't exactly a b elle ! — want another sixpennorth ; 
and despatch will oblige ! " 

" Come, sir, come ! " gasped out " My Uncle ; " 
"come, sir, come ! what's all this ?" 

" Bless me ! " said Tarvar ; " why, I took you for 
the landlord!" 

" Confound you," replied Mr. Bang, " what the 
deuce do you mean by always taking me for grocers, 
and tavern-keepers, and heaven knows what ! " 

" My dear sir ! calm yourself ! mistakes will 
happen; but you'll excuse me : this reminds me of a 
mistake my cousin Tom, my companion in the roast 
chicken difficulty, once made. It was many years 
ago now, when he was a jolly young fellow, in the 
days before gentlemen went to dances in high- 
heeled boots ; and Tom, having an invitation to go 



138 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

to a grand ball, wasn't above walking there, and 
put his pumps in his pocket. Having arrived in j 
safety, unsplashed and hopeful, he sat himself on 
one of the hall chairs, and, pulling out his pumps, i 
discovered at that critical moment he'd left his 
shoe-horn behind him ! Turning round and seeing \ 
a likely-looking individual in a stiff white choker 
standing near the door, ' Hi ! my good man,' says 
Tom, 'just fetch us a shoe-horn, will you?' The i 
party addressed turned slowly on his heel, with the •; 
measured observation, 'I don't keep shoe-horns;' i 
and Tom afterwards had the satisfaction of knowing 
that he was the most eminent dissenting preacher | 
of the day ! and so you see it runs in the family, 
and ' can't be helped !' " 

Again, during a pause in the conversation, as we 
were puffing away leisurely and contemplatively at 
our cigars, Ned breaks the silence with "Puss ! 
Puss ! Poor Puss ! Here, Puss ! " too ordinary 
exclamations, one would think, deeply to affect his 
hearers; but Tarvar was evidently a man who "des- 
pised not small beginnings : " nothing to him was so 






BETSY AND HER CAT. 139 

minute that thereby he couldn't hang a tale. " 'Puss ! 
Puss ! ' you'll excuse me, but that reminds me " (it 
was always so, "that reminds me" — he never volun- 
tarily gave us the benefit of his well-stocked reper- 
toire, but always contrived to bring them in as illus- 
trations of the subject in hand, and as if) but for the 
previous observations, he should never have thought 
of them) — " that reminds me of a curious thing that 
happened to my sister Betsy. There was a young 
fellow in our town rather spoony on her, and he 
used to come and see her a'most every day, but never 
a word had he to say for himself; and after the usual 
routine about how d'ye do, and the weather, a dead 
pause would generally ensue. On one of these oc- 
casions — Betsy told me of it afterwards — Pussy 
came in at the door, ' Puss ! Puss ! poor Puss ! come 
here, Puss !' said Betsy ; 'pretty Puss ; poor Puss !' 
1 Oh,' said he, looking brightly up, ' do you know, 
we've got a cat called Puss at our house!' But ori- 
ginal as that remark was, he was not able to follow it 
up ; and after sitting looking at her and saying ' yes ' 
and 'no,' for three quarters of an hour, he went away." 



140 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

But the Tarvar anecdotes would " fill a book :" 
and though he went on glibly till twelve o'clock, 
under the inspiration of another sixpennorth, I shall 
repeat no more. At that hour we bade good night, 
arranging that he should join us at a farewell break- 
fast in the morning. 

Fortune still Smiled on us as regards the weather ; 
and when the morning came Ned and I were up with 
the lark, and ascended the Hanger, whence Ned 
sketched a view of the pleasant valley below us, I, in 
the meantime, reading him a very heavy and slow 
account of the place from a number of the Leisure 
Hour with which Mr. Hole had supplied us. Ned's 
enthusiasm was of course thereby excited to the 
highest pitch ; and an old man presently approaching 
us, in whose features he declared he traced a won- 
derful resemblance to a certain illustrious personage, 
he actually gave him a sixpence — a donation, in the 
liberality of its amount totally unparalleled in the 
columns of his oldest day-book ! Respecting this 
Hanger, and the calm and peaceful view from it, I 
now find that our knowledge was wanting in one 



THE HEIGHTS OF BALAKLAVA. 141 

essential element, which would have added greatly 
I to our interest in the scene, and have merged the 
illustrious Gilbert, and our natural historical remin- 
iscences, in associations of glorious battlefields, can- 
non-crowned heights, and noble hearts ; our vivid 
imaginations would have let loose the dogs of war 
over the peaceful scene ; the lovely prospect would 
have been thought of no more ; and patriotism the 
only feeling that possessed us, or could find a vent ; — 
for what says Mr. Russell, the Times correspondent 1 
" Any one who has visited Selborne, and clambered 
up to the top of the Hanger, will have a very fair 
idea of the heights over the valley of Balaklava, as 
it sweeps round toward Inkermann, always barring 
the height and magnitude of the trees, for which he 
must substitute dwarf oaks and thick brushwood." 
I rather think, though, on the whole, that Ned would 
have thought ignorance on the subject was bliss, and 
any allusion to another place, "unparliamentary" 
and uncalled for. Breakfast, of course, was admir- 
able, but we were much disappointed by the inex- 
plicable non-appearance of Tarvar ; and we had nearly 



142 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

finished, and " My Uncle " had just been observing 
that though the more were the merrier, the fewer was 
better cheer, when " Bless me !" cried "My Uncle," 
" here he is ! Come, sir, come ! How d'ye do % |. 
Take a chair. Come, sir, come ! Thought you i r 
were lost ! But better late than never : better come 
at the fag end of a feast than the beginning of a fray 
— eh ? Come, sir, come ! " 

"Ah! my dear sir — you'll excuse me, but that 

reminds me but — 'pon honour, I haven't time — 

most amusing story — but must be off — -just come 
back from a stroll (forgot to wind up my watch 
last night, and had no idea of the time) — and find a 
letter necessitating my immediate departure : there's 
my eldest son, whom I left in charge of the business, 
actually joined the moustache movement and fright- \ 
ening away all the respectable customers ! and," I 
added he, drinking off a cup of coffee, "My Uncle" had ? 
poured out for him, "and so good bye, and God \ 
bless you. I've got some bread and cheese in my [ 
pocket, and shall get home before dinner. By-bye ! -- 
ta-ta ! " and he was off. 






THE WASHERWOMAN PUZZLED. 143 

Breakfast over, having received our clothes from 
the washerwoman, pleased her with a handsome 
remuneration, and puzzled with the inquiry, why 
she, as a washerwoman, was the most incongruous 
of beings ? — and yet more puzzled her with the 
answer, " Because she went to bed a washerwoman, 
and got up fine linen ! " — we, under the guidance 
of Mr. Hole, visited the vicarage, a very hand- 
some, substantial building, though of modern ap- 
pearance, and objected to by Ned as of too Cockney 
a character. The garden, the situation of which is 
naturally beautiful, is most tastefully laid out, and 
we were particularly struck with a splendid yew- 
hedge of considerable length. Of the house itself, 
the kitchen is the only part remaining which existed 
in White's time. On our return, passing the Pley- 
stow, locus ludorum, or Village Green, we observed 
a group of villagers in a state of considerable excite- 
ment, which we were forthwith called upon to allay. 
The fact was, that a certain clodhopper had, during 
a pause in the mastication of fat bacon, fired at and 
unfortunately killed " the bird of good omen," — a 
very rare one indeed in these parts, indeed in most — 



144: A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

" the white-bellied kingfisher." Our own knowledge 
of the feathered tribe, with shame be it said, is 
limited in the extreme, and on venturing an opinion 
that the said kingfisher was a peewit, were deri- ! 
sively laughed at, though no one present could solve 
the difficulty. Shortly, however, an old man was 
seen approaching, on whom it is believed the gabar- 
dine of White has fallen, and who curiously enough 
turned out to be the recipient of Ned's sixpence, 
and on being appealed to declared it was the rara 
avis I've mentioned. Then, paying our little ac- 
count, and bidding farewell to Mr. Hole, Mrs. 
Hole, and the little Holes, and also to Polly "tall 
and stately," we, at the earnest solicitation of Ned, 
once more ascended the Hanger. Arrived at the 
top, short of breath, and shaky at the knees, Ned 
flung himself on the greensward, and had a length- 
ened interview with the sun. Suddenly getting on 
his legs, " See ! " said he, quoting from White, for 
White was a rhymer as well as a birdsnester, 

11 'See Selbome spreads her boldest beauties round 
The varied valley, and tbe mountain ground — 
Wildly majestic !' 



NED EFFERVESCES. 145 

" Didst ever see so sweet a scene 1 Have your 
eyes ever lighted on so fair a prospect ? 

" ' Romantic spot ! from whence in prospect lies 
Whate'er of landscape charms our feasting eyes — 
The pointed spire, the ball, the pasture plain, 
The russet fallow, or the golden grain, 
The breezy lake that sheds a gleaming light, 
Till all the fading picture fails the sight ! ' 

" Drop now your eye below, 

" 'Where round the blooming village, orchards grow: 
There like a picture lies His lowly seat, 
A rural, sheltered, unobserved retreat.' 

" Says White, ' Nor be the vicarage forgot ' — but 
I earnestly hope that unsightly, cockneyfied object 
may soon fade from my mind. "Tis not the vicarage 
he meant. And there 

" ' Adown the vale in lone sequestered nook, 

Where skirting woods imbrown the dimpling brook, 
The ruined convent lies — here wont to dwell 
The lazy canon midst the cloistered cell, 

("Hear!" from Mr. Bang.) 

While Papal darkness brooded o'er the land, 

("Hear! hear!") 

Ere Reformation made her glorious stand. 

K 



UQ 



A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



("Hear! hear!! hear!!!") 

Still oft at eve belated shepherd swains 

See the cowled spectre skim the folded plaios ! ' " 

(Loud cries of " Oh ! oh ! " and laughter, of which 
our friend, being so " wrapt and thoroughly lapt " 
in rural ecstasy, was happily oblivious.) And at 
last, having made our way down, we shouldered 
our knapsacks, and bent our steps to Farnham 
(Ned casting many a " lingering look behind"), in- ; 
tending to take Alton and Bentley in our way. 



i 



* 



CHAPTER X. 

Ned's Prophecy — "My Uncle's" First Discomfiture — A 
Swindling Chemist — Tye's Discomfiture — Mr. Bang 
in his Original Character of "The Englishman" — 
Ned caught Tripping — Bentley — " My Uncle's" Secohd 
Discomfiture—" My Uncle's " Third Discomfiture- 
Remarks on our Route — Ned's Great Discomfiture. 

Tumbling on through shady lanes — shady, aye, 

gloomy, and withal rugged, rocky, and romantic, 

in many places being reduced sixteen or eighteen 

feet beneath the level of the fields, and "worn 

down," says White, " by the traffic of ages, and the 

fretting of water through the first stratum of oiir 

sandstone, and partly through the second, are more 

like water-courses than roads," — rambling o'er 

pleasant meadows, and rich fields, gilded with 

" Autumn's yellow lustre," jumping over stiles, 

and occasionally sacrificing dignity to enjoyment 

in the healthy pastime of leap-frog, congratulating 

each other on our health and spirits, our " thoughts 

as boundless as our souls were free," and "My 

K 2 






148 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

Uncle " playfully alluding to the great fact of their 
not having had to " bury me before we reached Sel- 
borne," conversing facetiously, but in all honesty, 
with buxom village maidens on their way to mar- 
ket, speculating as to the course which in the 
present crisis of his domestic relations would be 
pursued by the paternal Tarvar, and on the 
personal appearance, and mental and social capa- 
cities of Tarvar junior, and wondering whether 
" Crowley's Imperial " bore any resemblance in its 
native purity to the beverage vended in London 
under that name, in conjunction with a nominal 
ham sandwich, for the virtual sum of fourpence, — 
we, somewhere about half-past twelve, arrived at 
Alton ; and, proceeding to " The Swan," resolved 
ourselves into a committee, " My Uncle " in the 
chair, to arrange on the order of our goings for the 
day. Mr. Bang then, for the first time, announced 
that he had a " friend " in the town, whom I will 
designate as Mr. Blossom, a large hop-grower, with 
whom he had formerly had transactions to the tune 
of some thousands of pounds, whom he doubted not 






CONVIVIAL ANTICIPATIONS. 14& 

would be extremely glad to see him, and might 
possibly invite its to partake of his hospitality. 
He therefore declared his intention of at once 
calling on that gentleman, and bringing their old 
business connection to his memory; energetically 
inquiring whether " auld acquaintance should ever 
be forgot," and saying he should be back in half an 
hour, off he went. This half-hour we naturally 
spent in anticipating a glorious spread, a good 
bottle of wine, a few blissful moments of female 
society, and in perambulating the town ; but in that 
we didn't see much that was noteworthy. " Like 
most of the smaller towns in Hampshire," writes 
the author of " Rambles by Rivers," " it has a dull 
appearance ; no buildings that would be looked at 
a second time, and no associations that need detain 
us." There was nothing indeed, except the church, 
which is a fine old building, in the perpendicular 
style, and according to Ned, who mounted a tomb- 
stone and looked in, the interior level is lower than 
the churchyard, which would lead one to the very 
uncomfortable and unecclesiastical idea, that at a 



1*50 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

certain period, rheumatism must be rather preva- 
lent in the neighbourhood. Standing thus on the 
tombstone, and gazing rapturously and unblinkingly 
on the glorious sun, our friend seized the oppor- 
tunity of opening the floodgates of his prophetic 
soul. " So pure the sky, so quiet is the air, me- 
thinks I could while away an hour here in this 
sweet spot — 



• 



■ 



: 



" 'where all things mournful meet, 
And yet the sweetest of the sweet, 
The stillest of the still 1' 



" I'm sure so fair, and calm, and bright a morn j 1 
gives promise of a cloudless day ; and pleasant as 
has been the past — delightful as was our stay at 
Selborne — I think I may draw an augury from ' 
the bright orb above us, and the fragrant air around 
us, and predict that this day, with Alton and its 
ale — Bentley, simplex munditiis — Farnham, its 
hops and bishops — and our gradual approximation 
to the scenes immortalised by Cobbett, will be the r 
greatest success of all." 

Sympathising with his hopes, but not immoder- 



"my uncle's" indignation. 151 

ately indulging Lis expectations, I proposed, as 
there was nothing else to see, returning to our 
hostelry, and satisfying ourselves as to the merits 
of the famous ale. 

Arrived within view of " The Swan " (in our 
eagerness full five minutes before our time), we 
were somewhat concerned to observe our Uncle 
paring his nails in the middle of the road, his hat 
over his eyes, and an expression of intense indigna- 
tion on his countenance. Striding haughtily to our 
apartment, and carefully closing the door, we were 
considerably alarmed by the following instan- 
taneous explosion : — 

" May he die in a horse's night-cap, or perish in a 
workhouse ! May he who turns his back on his 
friends learn to feel the want of them ! I — I — I — 
but you'll excuse me — I'll make no personal allu- 
sions — I will make no reference to a base ingratitude 
— I will draw a veil over the nakedness of his heart 
— my friendship, where I give it, is honest and sin- 
cere, and would be perpetual, without interest, and 
without formality ; — but alas ! it's blossoms have 



152 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

been nipped — it's hinges have rusted — and it's 
bark has foundered ! Here ! " said " My Uncle," 
raising a glass of the Imperial to his lips, laying 
his hand upon his heart, and a tear glistening in 
his eye — "Here's to fewer friends, and less need of 
them ! " 

Recovering from our amazement, and the dis- 
appointment to our culinary and social hopes, Ned 
and I both endeavoured to soothe his irritability, 
the former winding up an elaborate speech with an \ 
opinion, that it was " a sad lesson, to teach us that 
we need cast no anchors in this life's uncertain 
sea !" but in vain : entreaties and eloquence, a 
hearty lunch, and, above all, a pint of the Imperial, \ 
were thrown away on him — he wouldn't be pacified. J 
Remarking to Ned that this was rather an 
ominous commencement of " the greatest success of 
all," and being told by that deeply-into-the-mill- 
stone-of-futurity-seeing youth, that " all's well that 
ends well," and that I should alter my tone by tea- 
time, I then asked them to accompany me to a 
chemist's, needing a fresh supply of camphor and 






■ 



THE AFFRONTED CHEMIST. 153 

quinine. We accordingly entered a very gorgeous 
shop ; and having stated my desires, we seated 
ourselves to await with patience the results of a 
little, be-spectacled, wiry, Scotch -terrier -looking 
individual's researches into a ponderous Pharma- 
copoeia. Presently he hands me my two bottles, 
and to my great amazement I observed a white 
liquid in both of them. "My good man," said I, 
"which is camphor, and which is quinine?" 
"Smell 'em !" was the sententious reply. I did so, 
and having satisfied myself that one of them was 
spirits of camphor, and all right, "And now, my 
good man," said I, " sorry to trouble you again, but 
what's this?" "Tincture of quinine." "With 
all deference to your superior knowledge of che- 
mistry in general," replied I, " I must yet say that 
I think on this particular subject you are mis- 
taken." "Not know how to make tincture of 
quinine ! This is an insult, sir — I say, sir, this is 
an insult, sir ! I say this is tincture of quinine." 
"Why, you've just said it was an 'insult;' I ain't 
clear about that, but I know it's not quinine ; — wash 



154 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

the bottle." " Your name, sir 1 — your name, sir ? — » t 
do you hear, sir 1 Have you a name, sir ? How 
dare you, sir ? — you shall hear from me, sir." 
" Empty that bottle, and wash it out, sir," said I. 
" Sir ! This is too much, sir ! I won't stand it, 
sir ! I tell you, sir, this is tincture of quinine : 
look at the Pharmacopoeia and see for yourself." L 
" Look at the Pharmacopoeia ! Why, how am I 
to decipher your abominable hieroglyphics 1 You • 
might as well offer me a crochet book ! Empty j; 
that bottle, sir, at once !" 

In a violent perspiration, and muttering some- 
thing about some people being fools of such mar- 
vellous dimensions as passed his comprehension, he 
hastily proceeded to cleanse the bottle. Turning 
round, I noticed " My Uncle" looking very impor- . 
tant, and evidently planning how he might get a ; 
finger in the pie ; and I bethought me that this i 
impudent druggist was a capital subject for the 1 
discharge of his envenomed bile. Ned was in: 
convulsions behind the door. " There's the bottle, ; 
sir; two shillings, sir." "Two what?" "Two- 



FRIENDLY INTERVENTION. 155 

shillings." "And what for?" "One shilling for 
the spirits of camphor, and one shilling for the 
tincture of quinine." " There's one shilling for 
the camphor," says I ; " and when you give me 
the quinine, I'll give you another for that." " I 
charge you one shilling for what I have already 
made for you, and I will have it — I will have 
it !" " Don't you wish you may get it ?" said I ; 
"you said something about fools just now, look 
at home." 

" Come, sirs, come ! Come, sirs, come !" here inter- 
posed "My Uncle;" "my dear sir, my very dear sir ! 
I must be permitted — I must really make an obser- 
vation — matters are really going too far. My young 
friend's tongue seems to run before his wit, and he 
forgets that fair play's a jewel ; but I must say 
that, as an Englishman and a man of honour, as a 
lover of fair-play and straightforwardness, I must 
really say that my young friend is — decidedly — quite 
so — in the wrong. I am very grieved, I repeat, to 
say it, but 'pon my soul, it's enough to make a man 
scratch where it doesn't itch, and I consider it my 



156 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

duty, as an Englishman, to interfere as I have done. 
My young friend, you will pardon me — my young ' 
friend will, I trust, excuse my bluntness, and all ' 
that sort of thing ; and I trust I may conclude 
these observations with the hope that, my dear ; 
fellow, difference of opinion may never alter friend- r 
ship ; and that, my dear sir, you will considerately 
overlook my young friend's irritability, and accept 
of this — a — hum — shilling. Come, sirs, come ! 
come, sirs, come !" 

" Call you that backing of your friends ? A 
plague upon such backing ! Here," said I, " take 
your shilling and be hung ! As for ' My Uncle,' 
he doesn't know what he's talking about. I ask 
for an orange-coloured, orange-flavoured liquid, and 
I have some colourless, scentless stuff, which I 
verily believe was plain water, passed off upon me, 
and am blackguarded, and called a fool, and charged 
a shilling into the bargain. And as for you, old 
Salts and Senna, though the gallows groan for you, ' 
I'm convinced hanging's too good for you ; you're 
a disgrace to your species, your profession, your 



I 



UNWONTED TACITURNITY. 157 

town, and the age in which you live. You're a 
' walking imposition and an animated fraud' j" and 
Hinging down my shilling, I quitted the place. 

'Twas now my turn to be pacified, but I wouldn't 
have it at no price, and having thought at the 
beginning that there was nought presenting 

" Peculiar ground for hope to build upon," 

was now more than ever persuaded that "the 
greatest success of all" would be the grandest failure 
on record ! 

So, in no very good humour, and amid an un- 
wonted silence, we made our way to the station, 
intending to go to Bentley by rail. The station 
was very dull, the train very short, and the traffic 
very limited ; and how these cross-country lines 
manage to pay, was always more than I could make 
out — half a dozen persons being the highest number 
they ever convey at once. The only other pas- 
senger besides ourselves, was a middle-aged woman, 
of no personal attractions, but great " personal 
property," regarding the attributes of which she 



158 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

seemed to hold, in common with the rest of her f 
sex, an exaggerated version of the opinion of the 

late Justice Blackstone, of immortal memory, viz., i 

that "it" might "attend the owner's person i 

wherever she might think proper to go ;" whether 1 
on a general move of the whole family to America, 

or an ordinary gadding out to tea with "dear i 

Maria " in the next street, being immaterial. For i 
what with a trunk or two, an occasional band-box, 

divers bundles carefully wrapped up in Hampshire p 

Telegraphs and blue bird's-eyes, a pair of mediaeval a 

pattens, and ditto umbrella, she appeared, judging : 

from her station in life, to be carrying about with her i 
the whole of her worldly goods. Whether the thought 

struck Ned, that by skilful management the * 

comfortable matron might, supposing her a spinster, i 

"endow" him with those "worldly goods," or I 

whether in his then temporary dearth of a friendly - 

audience, he merely fixed on her as the receptacle '?■ 
of his pent-up admiration of the scenery, this 
deponent is unable to say ; but that he did maintain 
an animated and uninterrupted conversation with 



A CHASTE SALUTATION. 159 

her, in the further comer of the carriage during the 
whole of the run, he does affirm ; yet, at the same 
time, he feels bound, in justice to both parties, to 
avow his non-concurrence with the opinion of Mr. 
Bang, who declared that while both their heads 
were out of the window, attracted doubtless by 
some particular object of interest in the distance, 
he distinctly heard a sound as of " a chaste 
salutation ;" for anything more in dissonance with 
our friend's well-known high moral character could 
not for a moment be conceived. "My Uncle," 
however — and his spirits seemed to revive with the 
idea — persisted in his assertion, maintaining, at the 
same time, that it was highly creditable to our 
friend, vowing that he " hadn't thought he'd got it 
in him," trusting that " one trial would prove the 
fact " how delicious it was, and embraced the occa- 
sion to expatiate at length on the " philosophy of 
kissing," winding up with the sentiment, that " the 
man who neglected the opportunity of bussing 
a British damsel, was unworthy the name of an 
Englishman/' and all the day, and to the end of 



160 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

our tour, he was perpetually inquiring of the J 
blushing and indignant Ned, how was " the girl J 
he'd left behind him !" 

In due course we reached Bentley, of which we 
had expected great things, Mr. Thorne telling us 
that it is " one of the very prettiest places of the 
kind he knows of, and that it would have made the 
fortune of any Dutch painter who should have 
been so lucky as to light upon it." But I suppose 
our troubles must have cast a shade on it ; for 
though Ned was in raptures, and, as usual, gave '•; 
us the benefit of his soliloquies, a recital whereof 
I will spare the reader, " My Uncle" and I could 
see nothing to distinguish it from any ordinary vil- ' 
lage ; and there were no associations of the slightest 
interest to redeem it. At this stage of our pro- j, 
ceedings we were considerably alarmed by "My 
Uncle" deliberately announcing that he had another 
" friend" in the neighbourhood, and was deter- 
mined to give human nature another chance, and !, 
look him up. Leaving us within hail, and im 
charge of his bag, he accordingly went on his mis- 



"MY UNCLE'S" SECOND "FRIEND." 161 

sion of love, and presently a loud " Hallo there !" 
gave us the signal that it was all right this time, 
and that we were to advance with the baggage and 
join the main body. Opening the gate, we found 
ourselves in a beautiful, extensive, and fragrant 
garden, which seemed to contain specimens of every 
flower that blows, and soon came upon its owner, a 
tall, well-dressed, and rather solemn sort of man, in 
earnest communication to Mr. Bang of the names, 
species, and varieties of every blessed plant around 
them. On seeing us, he remarked that it was a fine 
day, that we looked dusty, and perhaps would like 
a glass of wine — but he didn't press it, and we 
couldn't; and then suggested that we should relieve 
ourselves of our knapsacks, while we accompanied 
him round the garden, and heard the rest of the 
catalogue ! That was all we got out of him, 
excepting the offer of the glass of wine, and an 
intimation of a short cut across the fields to 
Farnham ; so that we cherished a hope that though 
he was a very Abraham, in comparison with 
" Blossom," " My Uncle " might have no more 

L 



162 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

" friends " along our line of route ! That unfortu- i 
nate gentleman was destined to be still further ' 
annoyed ; for just as we had reached the turn < 
leading to the short cut, an impudent yeoman in an 
empty cart, and with a strong horse, not only refused 
to give our knapsacks a lift to " The Lion and the 
Lamb," but accompanied his ungraciousness by an in- 
sulting operation, popularly yclept " taking a sight." 

" Stop, you rascal !" shouted Mr. Bang, running r 
after him, umbrella in hand ; " stop, you villain !"ii 
(here the man dangled the whip in " My Uncle's " * 
face) — "stop! I say, stop ! By Jove! I'll break;] 
every bone in your skin ! Stop, you cowardly 
sneak you, stop ! " But he only went off the f 
quicker, repeating his insulting and irritating £ 
gestures, and " My Uncle," very red in the face, 
covered with dust, and almost breathless (which!: 
didn't improve his articulation), swore a great oath, 3 
that if he met that villain in the town, he'd give itc 
him then and there ! But luckily for the peace of 3 
Her Majesty's lieges, the rencontre never took place. 

As a set-off against our manifold misfortunes, . 



THE FINEST VALE IN ENGLAND. 163 

our attention had been all along pathetically en- 
treated by Ned to the wondrous beauty of the 
country and the weather, the sight and enjoyment 
of which he maintained were over and above 
compensation for any personal annoyances. 

Although it was impossible to agree with his 
philosophy, yet we were not blind to the lovely 
panorama before us. Arthur Young says, the vale 
between Alton and Farnham is "the finest ten 
miles in England," an assertion which, not being so 
great a traveller as Mr. Young, I can't endorse, 
especially as " Billy Cobbett," who was born there, 
differs from him, and thinks the ten miles between 
Maidstone and Tunbridge (called the "garden of 
Eden") to be " the very finest in this whole world ;" 
but Cobbett, as we all know, always dealt in super- 
latives, whether his subject might be a rasher of 
bacon, a beautiful landscape, or a base, bloody, 
brutal Whig ! and so I may split the difference 
between them, by saying that we had as charming 
a ramble as any one could have wished for that 
bright autumn morning. 

l 2 



164 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

We began with those singular Selborne lanes, [ 
then we had verdant meadows and quiet hamlets, f, 
then our Httle trip by the rail, and finally wound v 
up with the hop gardens, and the old town of \> 
Farnham. As Ned truly remarked, "what tourist -j 
could desire more?" And it will always be a j 
source of regret, that though it was appreciated, 
those little " personal annoyances" prevented its 
being appreciated as it deserved. 

Arrived at the end of our stage, we secured 
apartments at " The Lion and the Lamb," ordered \ 
a strong tea, and then sauntered leisurely along the 
High-street to the post-office, where we had 
directed our letters to be forwarded. On our way, ] 
our evil genius tempted us to enter a stationer's 
shop, Ned wishing to increase his stock of letter- 
paper, and "My Uncle" to get a better and a 
longer view of the pretty maiden who, as we saw 
through the window, would wait on us. Having 
had shopping enough for one day, I employed my- 
self in looking over that day's Times, which un- 
expected treasure the little damsel handed me, and 

i 



ned's "extras." 165 

had spread the sheet over my end of the counter, 
when Ned, having completed his purchase, leant 
over to take a peep, and was deep in an account of 
some antiquarian discoveries, when "crack !" went 
something under his elbow, which turned out, on 
removing the paper, to be a glass trinket-case, 
value eight shillings, which that luckless wight had 
forthwith, and with no very good grace, to stump 
up. I don't think I ever saw such a picture of 
forlorn misery as his countenance exhibited : fancy 
him — Ned — who would always have his " money's 
worth" for every farthing he disbursed, actually 
having to lay out eight splendid shillings, with no 
present or prospective return ! He seemed to think 
we should have got up a subscription on the spot, 
to aid him in the emergency, as if it didn't clearly 
come under his own definition of an " extra," and as 
if we hadn't had our share of " annoyances " during 
the day. 

Fortunately the post didn't fail us : we all 
had some letters, and serenity was partially re- 
stored ; but returning to our inn at the appointed 



166 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

time, we found our tea not ready, no fire lighted, 
and a man waiter. 

" By Jove," said " My Uncle," " this is too much ; 
I shall take the first coach to-morrow morning." 

" My dear sir," interposed I, " ' so foul and 
fair a day I have not seen !' 'tis almost, as 
you say, ' too much ;' but let us hope that, 
with this unkindest cut of all, we've come to = 
the end of our chapter of accidents. I have 
now waited, as I was requested, till tea-time ; and 
I must repeat with that emphasis which only 
experience gives, that our 'greatest success' has 
been the most unmitigated failure ; and I don't 
think I could point to a more earnest supporter of 
that opinion than the unlucky prophet and gentle- 
man opposite. Fate, however, has been most im- 
partial, and has hit us all on our favourite hobbies ; 
but let us laugh at the fickle goddess — ' suffer and 
be strong ' (and ' to be strong,' says the same poet, 
i is to be happy'), and look for to-morrow being the 
' good time coming.' " 

Added Ned, "A sudden thought strikes me! 



TROUBLES ENTOMBED. 167 

Comrades in misfortune, let's swear eternal friend- 
ship ; and as tea's now ready, and it's folly to fret, 
and grief's no comfort, bury our 'annoyances' 
'neath the good things before us." 

" Amen," said " My Uncle." " Sharp stomachs 
make short graces, so here's thanks, and here goes. 
Come, sirs, come ! After you ! How's the girl you 
left behind you 1 Come, sirs, come !" 



CHAPTER XL 

Farnham Church — An Awful Announcement — The Birth- 
place op Cobbett — The Hog's Back — Cobbett's Edu- 
cation Place — The Prevailing Epidemic— A Politi- 
cal Celebrity, and a Hearty Welcome— Guildford — 
St. Martha's Chapel. 

As usual, Ned aud I were up betimes, but owing to 
Mr. Bang's intimation that he intended joining us 
half an hour earlier than his wont, we could not 
have our regular stroll, and so, sketch and note 
books in hand, betook ourselves to the old church. 
It is of undoubted antiquity, but so patched about, 
bearing traces of almost every period and style, 
that, like the Irishman's breeches, there is con 
siderable difficulty in deciding on its original 
fashion or material ; and Ned not thinking it worth 
sketching, we meditated awhile among the tombs, 
but derived little consolation or benefit from the 
process, there being but one epitaph worth tran- 
scribing. There were divers of course revelling in 



THE BELLRINGER's EPITAPH. 169 

the mysterious, and grand in the rejection of ordi- 
nary grammatical rules, thereby exposing (doubt- 
less contrary to the original design) the there 
underlying Brown, Jones, or Robinson to the 
ridicule and satire of successive generations, 
but none of sufficient eccentricity or originality to 
warrant a reproduction. The one I copied bore 
date 1796 — not so very long ago — and was in 
memory of an aged and harmonious bellringer : — 

" Skilled in the mystery of the pleasing peal, 
Which few can know, and fewer still reveal ; 
Whether with little bells, or bell sublime, 
To split a moment to the truth of Time. 
Time often truly beat, at length o'ercame, 
Yet shall this tribute long preserve his name ;" 

which, I grieve to think, this narrative cannot do, 
as, though the name was still legible, I have some- 
how forgotten it. Requiescat in pace. 

We then paced up and down the High-street, 
viewing the shops becoming gradually shutterless — 
the milkman paying his early call — and pretty, 
rosy-cheeked country lasses, with their pails and 
brooms, tidying up the doorways of the more 



170 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

bettersome abodes ; and, prompt to a minute, 
entering our apartment at "The Lion and the 
Lamb," were saluted with a hearty slap on the 
back, and a cheerful voice caroling forth, 

" Come, sirs, come ! How are we this morning % 
— thought I was never to have any breakfast, and 
just about to begin without you. Come, sirs, 
come ! — time is on the wing. How's the girl you 
left behind you ? May we kiss those we please, 
and please those we kiss. Eh ? Ned, my boy, 
eh? — and now, my boys, let's set to — and may 
every day bring us more happiness than yesterday ! 
Come, sirs, come !" — and down we sat. 

Our breakfast was a magnificent meal certainly, in 
style of serving and variety of condiments far supe- 
rior to anything we had come across hitherto, which 
was to be expected in a town ; but the man waiter 
was an eyesore to "My Uncle," Ned feared it 
would tell dreadfully on the exchequer, and I 
suspect I was the only one who thoroughly enjoyed 
it, nor sighed for rural fare, or " fair " attendance. 
However " My Uncle's " appetite was not sensibly 



A TRUE BRITON, 171 

affected, and Ned did his best to get " his money's 
worth ;" and so, discussing a wonderful ham and 
Ned's proposal for the day's route, in the course of 
conversation, says I — 

"My friends, notwithstanding our recent la- 
mentable experience of the instability of human 
friendships, I beg to announce my intention of 
looking up an acquaintance in the town of 
Guildford, which, as just arranged, will be our 
next halt. I think it would be best not to in- 
dulge in any eager expectations of a culinary 
nature, for my friend is not rich, and, in truth, I 
have no claim whatever on his hospitality, and my 
visit will be simply one of courtesy and respect to 
a great and good man ; but I know he will do his 
best to provide us with good quarters, and show us 
the lions of the town and neighbourhood." 

This statement was received with an ominous 
silence, followed after a time by cries of " name !" 

" Richard Oastler," answered I, " the Factory 
Child's Champion, and as good, true, honest, and 
hearty a Briton as ever lived !" 



172 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

" Why," said " My Uncle," " if I recoUectf right— 
I don't know much about politics, and care less — if I 
recollect, the fellow was an ' incendiary' and Chartist 
demagogue many years ago, and was finally im- 
prisoned for debt in the 'Fleet.' Hang it, you ain't 
going to introduce your Uncle to a scamp of that 
sort 1 — confound it : Ned, my boy, he may go by 
himself!" 

"Agreed," cried Ned: "the man was a violent 
democrat, breathing nothing but scurrilous per- 
sonalities, and spending all his energies to set the 
poor against the rich, and get up a revolution. Tye, 
my boy, I wish you joy of your friend; but when 
we are within hail of the venerable rebel's abode, 
'My Uncle' and I will await your return on the 
nearest stile !" 

" I can't make it out," added Mr. Bang, " I can't 
make it out ; I thought you were such a red-hot 
Tory and Protectionist, and here you are consorting 
and friendly with Chartists, Radicals, and Repub- 
licans !" 

" Well," says I, " it's curious, with all oiu* boasted 






CHARACTER OF RICHARD OASTLER. 173 

education and independence, how bigoted and 
prejudiced we are ; so ready, just to save ourselves 
the trouble of thinking, to endorse the opinions jind 
shibboleths of our party, or our class ! What do 
you know of Richard Oastler % Just as much as 
the rest of the world does, that abuses and decries 
him : nothing at all, saving the solitary fact of his 
having been a prisoner in the Fleet, on which you 
build a possible, and no very charitable hypothesis. 
If either of you had studied his career, your 
opinion would be different ; if you had read his 
works you would have found in them the purest 
Christianity, the highest morality, and, as a natural 
consequence (and what would surely have enlisted 
' My Uncle ' on his side), the most enlightened and 
unflinching Protestantism. He is, and always was, 
a high Tory — a thorough and consistent Pro- 
tectionist (though, of course, with such ' liberal 
and enlightened philosophers' as you, that's no 
recommendation), and a true and noble patriot. 
That he was ' personal,' that he had British pluck 
enough to ' call a spade a spade,' I admit ; but he 



174 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

was never more so than the subjects of it deserved, 
or than was necessary to open the eyes of an obtuse 
and philosophy-blinded people ; — and having said 
thus much in vindication of self and friend, I'll 
just pitch into this pie again, and will thank 
you, Ned, to pass my cup." 

" Come, sir, come, have another cup — all's serene 
— after you — come, sir, come !" 

Breakfast over, and Ned's apprehensions as to 
our " little account " being abundantly verified, we 
again buckled on our knapsacks, and amid genial 
sunshine and refreshing breezes, resumed our 
saunter. 

Of Farnham I have nothing very particular to 
say : it is a flourishing country town, renowned all 
the world over for its hops. It derives its name 
from the great quantity of fern which used to grow 
there, and it was formerly one of the greatest corn 
markets in England, though, of late, it has Jwpped 
to another source of agricultural emolument. To 
the eye it is a long, lank, and red affair, with no 
building of interest or importance, with the ex- 



; 






THE HAMLET OF BOURNE. 175 



ception of a little " public," called " The Jolly 
Farmer," where it is said the celebrated William 
Cobbett was born, and in the parlour of which is 
an old carved oak cupboard, once his property, as 
the said cupboard affirms in letters of gold in its 
middle panel : of the other panels, one records the 
date of his birth, and the other the day on which 
"his great light was extinguished." Here, for 
political association's sake, we quaffed a glass of 
Farnham ale, and then proceeded on our way to 
Guildford ; passing on our left, a little out of the 
town, the palace of the Bishop of "Winchester, 
which may be extremely comfortable, or episcopally 
luxurious within, but its exterior, as viewed from 
the high-road, did not tempt us to a closer inspec- 
tion : it looked very red and fiery in the bright 
sunlight, and we did not turn aside from the 
pleasant fields. 

After a time we began the ascent of " The 

Hog's Back," as the range of hills running through 

the centre of Surrey, commencing at Farnham 

j and ending at Dorking, is anything but eupho- 



176 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

niously called : all along there is a most beautiful 
view, but, unfortunately, for a great part of the 
way obscured by lofty hedges. The valley of the 
Wey is very lovely, and Ned points out to us the 
little hamlet of Bourne, well known as Cobbett's 
" education place." He used to work in a hop gar- 
den hard by when a boy; and I can't resist giving his 
own words : — " But the most interesting thing was 
a sand-hill, which goes from a part of the heath 
down to the rivulet. As a due mixture of pleasure 
with toil, I, with two brothers, used occasionally to r 
disport ourselves, as the lawyers call it, at this ;, 
sand-hill. Our diversion was this ; we used to go ; 
to the top of a hill which was steeper than the 
roof of a house ; one used to draw his arms out of \ 
the sleeves of his smock frock, and lay himself 1 
down with his arms by his sides ; and then the \ 
others, one at head, and the other at feet, sent him 
rolling down the hill like a barrel or a log of wood. \ 
By the time he got to the bottom, his hair, eyes, 
ears, nose, and mouth, were all full of this loose 
sand ; then the others took their turn, and at every 






THE MALADY AMONG THE MILITIA. 117 

roll there was a monstrous spell of laughter .... 
This was the spot where I was receiving my educa- 
tion, and this was the sort of education." — And 
then he goes on in a rhapsodical rodomontade, 
extolling this sort of education over the rival 
systems of Westminster and the Universities ! 

At the Guildford Down turnpike, we left the 
beaten track, and bounded merrily along the now 
"untrodden ways " of the old Guildford road — road, 
paths and all, covered with springy turf. It 
was delightful, when suddenly we discerned a 
curl of smoke straight a-head ; then, as we drew 
nearer, divers tents could be seen pitched here 
and there, and we came to the conclusion that it 
was either a picnic party or a gipsy encampment ; 
but on observing the British flag floating from the 
tops of all of them, we " gave it up," and when on 
reaching the spot we learnt it was the Cholera 
Hospital for the West Surrey Militia-men, among 
whom the disease was raging fiercely at the bar- 
racks at Guildford, a range of buildings built, as 
j we afterwards learnt, as if for the express purpose 

M 



178 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

of inviting it (the common sewer running through 
the midst of it), I clapped my piece of camphor to 
my nose, and fairly ran for it ; my two companions, 
with unpardonable folly, staying behind and 
holding a lengthened confab with the women, and 
children, and convalescents. They had a good 
laugh when they finally caught me up, at a safe 
and respectable distance ; but the unwelcome intel- : 
ligence made them see the propriety of my consult- ? 
ing Mr. Oastler before engaging apartments at any J 
hotel. I accordingly inquired my way, and soon 
found myself at South Hill Cottage, the residence 
of the " Old King," a pleasant tenement of the gable 
order, with a small but fragrant garden, and situate <■ 
within a stone's-throw of the old castle. 

Knocking at the door, it was immediately opened 
by Miss Tatham, his adopted daughter, as kind- 
hearted, cheerful, and amiable a lady as any in the 
land; and the old gentleman emerging the next 
moment from his " sanctum" they both gave me a F 
hearty welcome, accompanied by a regret that I had 
not arrived half an hour sooner, so as to have shared 



GENUINE HOSPITALITY. 179 

their dinner, but at the same time saying, that if I 
did not object to cold veal and currant tart, they 
should be served up directly. I thanked them, but 
said I had a couple of friends without, and that if 
they would put us in the way of getting clean, 
reasonable, and healthy lodgings, we should be 
obliged to them, and I would come up the next 
morning and have a chat. On hearing this, the 
hospitable old man put on his hat, and would hear 
of nothing but fetching them in. 

" Order up the dinner again, Maria," said he : 
" if these gentlemen are true tourists, they'll come 
back with me. I never knew or read of any yet 
that refused a bite and sup when freely offered." 

I however told him I had my doubts about their 
willingness to intrude on him ; and that nothing was 
further from my own intentions than burdening him 
with a trio of hungry travellers. But nothing would 
satisfy him ; and seizing his stick, and calling "Carlo," 
off we went, and found Ned and "My Uncle" discuss- 
ing biscuits on the stile. Having performed the cere- 
mony of introduction, Mr. Oastler immediately 

m 2 



180 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

pressed his invitation; but "My Uncle," with the 
remembrance of "Blossom" before him (for I could 
see that the appearance and hearty manner of my 
venerable friend had thoroughly dispelled their 
political antipathies), could scarcely comprehend 
such liberality, and wouldn't hear thereof for a 
moment, which only had the effect of making 
Mr. O. the more determined. " It's true," said he, 
"I've nothing but cold veal — the potatoes are all 
gone — but there's some tart, and a flagon of old ale, 
and if you're what you profess to be — true pedes- 
trians — you'll come in at once." But no, Mr. Bang 
couldn't think of intruding, and offered Mr. Oastler 
a biscuit, which he accepted, and immediately seized 
on the circumstance as a fresh and irresistible 
argument. 

" Come," said he, " I have broken bread with 
you — you must come and eat salt with me !" and 
linking his arm within that of "My Uncle," bore 
him off in triumph ! 

Said Ned to me, sotto voce, as we followed up the 
hill, " What a fine, interesting, patriarchal old fellow 



A GREAT TREAT. 181 

he is ! Why didn't you tell us what he was like ? — 
anything more unlike an * incendiary,' and more like 
an honest English gentleman, I never saw ! I'm 
delighted ! I'm charmed ! There's a pleasure in 
this, do you know ! — it's magnificent — it's superb !" 
Mr. Oastler and Miss Tatham were kindness 
itself ; we had an excellent dinner : he insisted on 
my occupying their spare bedroom ; recommended 
my friends to comfortable apartments, regretting he 
had not space for us all ; accompanied us in a stroll 
about the town ; then gave us a heavy tea ; after 
that, took us in the cool of the evening a lovely 
walk to Saint Martha's Chapel, on a hill, two-and-a- 
half miles from Guildford, whence is a most 
charming prospect ; and finally treated us to a right 
royal supper. That walk to Saint Martha's was a 
great treat : most of our way lay through harvest - 
fields — the golden grain waved softly in the evening 
breeze— the reapers were still at work — while 

"the setting sun 
With yellow radiance lightened all the scene." 

But I should like to give Mr. Oastler' s own 



182 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

description of that pleasant ramble, which I will 
copy from The Home, a paper he then conducted, 
published at a penny, and addressed to the working 
classes : — 

"We had a delightful walk, through a lovely 
country, up hill and down dale, with scenery as 
charming and as varied as can well be imagined, 
interspersed with hills, hanging woods, rich 
meadows, pastures, and highly -cultivated fields. 
Here and there a heath added its natural beauties 
to the scene. Mansions and parks are dotted up 
and down in those landscapes : many lovely villages, 
situate among groves and gardens, seem homes of 
rural bliss. The beautiful white spire, rising amid 
rich-foliaged trees in the valley, is Shalford Church. 
The ruins on the green mound beyond, overhanging 
the meandering Wey, are those of Saint Catherine's 
Chapel. The view thence is enchanting ; the 
various bends in the playful course of the river add 
much beauty to that spot. The "Wey seems to 
enjoy its passage to ' Old Father Thames,' making 
us smile as we gaze on its changeful course. We 






THE martyrs' hill. 183 

have left behind us Guildford, its three churches, 
its old ruined castle, and its many other attractions. 
That little church with its square tower, standing 
alone on the very summit of the round hill before 
us, is Saint Martha's. The ascent is steep, through 
wood and heath. It was a solemn, a deeply 
interesting sight. The beautiful little church 
stands alone — no human dwelling near. That view 
baffles description. The churchyard is spacious, 
inclosed by a grassy mound, and rough posts and 
rails without any paling. In that churchyard 
there is not a tombstone : green mounds cover 
the dead ; here and there the remains (broken 
off close to the sod) of a head or foot-stone may 
be seen: all else is grass. It is said that many 
a martyr sleeps there, and that the original name 
was Martyrs' Rill, though now it is called Saint 
Martha's. Be that as it may, a spot more suited 
for the true worshipper cannot be conceived. In 
such a spot, even martyrdom would be divested of 
some of its pangs ; there is something in that place 
that forces the thoughts to heaven." 






184 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

Our way, there and back, was beguiled with a long 
and interesting account of Mr. Oastler's celebrated 
trial, and many anecdotes and episodes of his ex- 
citing and eventful life. A high moral and religious 
tone pervades all he says, and, altogether, his com- 
panionship possesses a charm few others can boast. 
He is a fine hale old man, of nigh seventy summers, 
very tall, and with a slight stoop ; he has an impres- 
sive and benevolent countenance, and a massive brow 
surrounded with long, snowy hair. After supper, 
to. which we all did ample justice, we retired ; Ned 
and " My Uncle " to their lodgings, myself to the 
« Blue Chamber." 



. 



CHAPTEE XII. 

Mr. Oastler's Trial for Libel— St. Catherine's Hill- 
Ned loses a Bet — Lowesley Park — Cobbett's 
Description op the Road from Godalming to 
Guildford — Godalming — Tiie Cricket Field — 
Cobbett's Account of Guildford — Fare thee well, 
"Old King" — Cobbett and Oastler. 

I was up betimes the next morning ; and, after the 
performance of my matutinal toilet, was lounging 
luxuriously out of the open window, thinking that 
early as my venerable host did breakfast, his eager 
jaws would not be kept waiting on my account, 
and enjoying the glorious view commanded by that 
Blue Chamber, well described in the words of a 
previous guest, and mutual friend, as "a noble pic- 
ture," — "the farm house, the winding road, the 
stacks in the farm-yard, the gable walls of the old- 
fashioned houses, some being yellow, others white, 
their neighbours red ; intercepted by yews, hollies, 
and fruit-trees; the time-worn keep of the old 
castle, with the hills rising on the left and right, 



186 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

forming a fine landscape, always watched over by 
the same Great Artist, and every day gladdening . 
the eyes of all that gaze on it, and have preserved % 
their sense of natural beauty" — when, surely 
I knew that figure getting over the stile at the s 
pleasant meadow yonder : it could be no other than 2 
the venerable incendiary returning from marking 1 
out some neighbouring hay-ricks for speedy demo- e 
lition. I seized my cap, and hastened out to meet 5 
him : he looked bravely in the fresh morning air, p 
a bright and glowing example of the great truth, \ 
that " up i' the mornin' early," and a good country r 
ramble, brushing the dew-drops from the newly- 
christened meadows, and listening to the lark j 
caroling forth on high his morning song, are the \ 
best tonics in the world. After breakfast, we » 
repaired to Mr. Heath's, hair-dresser, in the High- | 
street, where Ned and "My Uncle" had been 
quartered. ISTed declared they'd fared like princes ; f 
and then, most inconsistently, showing how un- 
worthy he was of his good fortune, had a long dis- 1 
cussion with Mrs. Heath respecting an overcharge - 



BYGONE KECOLLECTIONS. 187 

of one halfpenny on some item in her account ; 
but the missus being pertinacious, and the sense of 
the meeting against him, he reluctantly gave way. 

We had arranged to devote this day to a walk to 
Godalming, or Godliman, as they call it, to see the 
great cricket match between the counties of Surrey 
and Nottingham. Mr. Oastler accompanied us 
as far as Lowesley Park, beguiling the way 
with a long and interesting account of his 
celebrated trial, and of the notorious Yorkshire 
election of 1807, when Lascelles, Milton, and 
Wilberforce contested the county, the preparations 
consuming three weeks, the poll being kept open 
fifteen days, four -and -twenty thousand persons 
recording their votes, upwards of half-a- million of 
money being spent, and Milton and the philanthro- 
pist eventually getting in. Respecting his trial, as 
far as I can remember, it was for libel. He had 
published a paper libelling (the greater the truth 
the greater the libel) in the most thorough wholesale 
way one Morris (I think was the name). The 
reason of his attacking Morris was, that Morris 



188 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

had instigated the burning of two bishops in effigy. 
Mr. Oastler defended himself, and pleaded justifica- 
tion. He was tried by Denman. Wightman and 
other eminent counsel were opposed to him. All 
his friends at the bar advised him throughout to 
apologise, but he persevered. To us he fought his 
battles o'er again, spoke his speech, and examined 
his witnesses, certainly in a most effective way. 
His defence took six hours, and at its conclusion he 
was complimented by the whole bar, and cheered 
by the public. Verdict for Mr. Oastler for so 
much as he justified ; the residue was found against 
him, with one farthing damages. " It was the 
proudest day of my life, sir !" There was another 
pleasing incident connected with that day. Early 
in the morning he was told he was "wanted." He 
went out, and found two of his sturdy labourers in 
waiting — Yorkshire to the backbone. " Well, men, 
what d'ee want?" "If you please, measter, we's 
heard that you be going to have a tussle with 
Measter Morris, so we've just come over to see it 
was all fair loike ! " They, simple fellows, fancied 



A HEAVY BET. 189 

that the trial was to be one of personal prowess, 
and that their master might lose for want of 
efficient backers ! 

On our way we halted for a quarter of an hour 
at the ruins of Saint Catherine's Chapel, on Saint 
Catherine's Hill, just out of the town, a most 
picturesque spot with a lovely "home view." 
Seating ourselves on some ancient blocks of stone, 
and gazing on the lovely country round us, wood 
and water, hill and dale, harvesters reaping away in 
all directions, and " the river wandering at its own 
sweet will," we were treated to another batch of 
the old gentleman's recollections : then, somehow or 
other, the talk got upon age. Mr. Oastler is much 
younger than he looks : his hair turned grey while 
yet a young man; and people were often deceived 
by his appearance. " Now," said he, looking round 
at us, " I bet any one of you, you don't guess my 
age within ten years !" The stake was a pipe of 
tobacco ; for Mr. Oastler is a confirmed smoker, 
taking his pipe of shag after all his meals, and ever 
and anon during the day. " Done," said Ned ; and 



190 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

having taken his time and considered it, he named 
seventy -two. "You have won your bet," said 
Mr. Oastler ; " you are only eight years out ; but I 
will bet you another pipe, you cannot say on which 
side of seventy-two the eight years lie." " Done, 
sir : you're eighty." " As it happens," says Mr. 
Oastler, "I'm sixty-four, and so you're wrong, and 
we're quits." 

Ned was doubtless thankful "we're quits;" for 
to pay would have gone against the grain, and 
'twould have been no satisfaction to have won, 
for though Mr. Oastler didn't know it, our friend, 
for reasons best known to himself, though ir- 
reverently guessed at by his acquaintance, donH 
smoke. In many things, such as activity and 
youthful spirit, and happiness and cheerfulness, the 
old man is younger than sixty-four ; but it is his very 
long and flowing white hair, his stooping shoulders, 
and a something in the face, that make him look so 
venerable and aged. Moreover, the idea one has of 
the deal of life he must have seen, and that he was 
politically known nearly half a century ago, con- 



YOUTHFUL MANLINESS. 191 

tribute to that conviction. At the age of seventeen 
he took an active part in an election, and he tells a 
story of how, at twelve years old, he walked ten 
miles one day to see his father, after he had been 
busy electioneering in the Tory interest. They had 
not met for long, but the father, who was a Whig, 
refused to see his son, till he had taken from his 
breast his orange and purple colours ! Young 
Dick, in his hot youth and pride, was about to 
march manfully the ten miles back, when his mother 
came out, and carrying him in, made it "all serene/' 
"although," added Mr. Oastler, " I took the 
occasion to read my father a lecture on this strange 
(save the mark !) intolerance in one who called him- 
self a liberal!'''' Again, his activity for sixty-four 
is very considerable : he rises early, and usually has 
a three mile " constitutional " before breakfast ; he 
walks along quickly and steadily, using a stick 
which once belonged to his friend Michael Thomas 
Sadlier, or else a rattan, of which he says, " Every- 
thing I have, sir, has a story belonging to it : when 
I was a boy my brother-in-law took me into a shop, 



192 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

and said ' Dick, lad, choose wot ye woll, I'll give it 
ye.' I chose this rattan !" 

Again on our way, we soon came to Lowesley 
House, a fine old baronial hall, belonging to the 
More Molyneux family; and at the stile, leading to 
the park, we parted from the old gentleman for 
the day. The hall is said to have been erected 
about a.d. 1560, and possesses some interesting 
internal remains, with the knowledge whereof Ned 
was charmed, and still more so by the recollection 
that through those antique chambers, and 'neath 
the "pleasing shade" of those "tall ancestral trees," 
the great Lord Herbert of Cherbury was wont to 
disport himself. Of this walk from Guildford 
to Godalming, I must extract Cobbett's account 
from Mr. Thome's " Rambles by Rivers," which 
Ned always carried in his pocket : — 

"Everybody that has been from Godalming to 
Guildford, knows that there is hardly another such a 



pretty four miles in England ; the road is good ; the 
soil is good; the houses are neat; the people are neat; 
the hills, the woods, the meadows, all are beautiful. 



CONTENT CREATES BEAUTY. 193 

Nothing wild or bold, to be sure, but exceedingly 
pretty ; and it is almost impossible to ride along 
these four miles without feelings of pleasure, though 
you have rain for your companion, as it happened 
to be with me." 

Mr. Thorne does not endorse this description, 
but we did — (I don't suppose that his having 
ridden along the beaten track, and our having pre- 
ferred the quiet fields "or shady lanes, varied with 
an occasional " plat of rising ground," 

"Where man hath ne'er or rarely trod," 
made much difference in the character of what we 
saw, or, if any, I claim the advantage) — being of 
that contented and happy state of mind which 
always takes the present view, as if not the prettiest 
one's seen, at least as pretty as needs be. 

Godalming is a decent sort of town, with a rather 
fine church, pleasantly situated, and in the God's 
acre thereof lies the body of Manning, the historian 
of the county, above which, says my old Guide, is a 
"headstone with an epitaph upon it, though he 
expressly forbade his family and friends to erect 

N 



194 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

any monument for him." I presently discovered a 
newsroom, with that day's papers, wherein I quietly 
ensconced myself, while Ned made a pilgrimage to the 
tomb of Manning, and " My Uncle " went to call on 
a friend in the town, respecting whom the only cer- 
tain intelligence I can give is, that he didn't ask 
him to lunch. 

The cricket match, which was played on 
the Broadwater Ground, was very good, said to 
have been one of the best of the season, and 
was veiy numerously attended, several carriages 
full of youth and beauty, and one handsome, tall, 
and pensive young man, in a complete suit of black 
velvet (and who struck me as being possibly 
the ghost of Hamlet, though why he should 
select a cricket-field for his walk I couldn't 
imagine, and didn't like to ask), adorning the 
ground. " My Uncle " was in days of yore a 
famous cricketer, and knew and recounted to us all 
the more important feats of each player as they 
went in ; so that what with the Oastler episode, the 
fine weather, and the match, not to mention a 



THE "fleet papers." 195 

hearty lunch we had under a tree in the field, the 
worthy gentleman was quite himself again. It was 
the second day's game, and would, weather per- 
mitting, be concluded on the morrow : we after- 
wards heard, with pride in our county's skill, that 
Surrey was the victor. On the ground we learnt 
the death of Lillywhite, the well known Sussex 
player, and introducer of "round" bowling: he fell 
a victim to the prevailing epidemic, at his house at 
Islington, and was in his sixty-fourth year. 

In the cool of the evening we returned to Guildford 
alongside the river, and had a hearty supper with Mr. 
Oastler and Miss Tatham, and afterwards Mr. Oast- 
ler read us some passages from his famous "Fleet 
Papers." These were published weekly, while he 
was a prisoner in the "Fleet," at the price of twopence, 
and at one time had a circulation of 10,000 ; but, 
when he began to write more particularly against 
Sir Robert Peel, the sale fell off — " They have all 
changed, sir. I am the only Tory left in England !" 
That night I was again the tenant of the Blue 
Chamber. 

n 2 



196 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

Coming down the next morning for our early- 
breakfast — I should not omit to state that the 
weather was still magnificent — I found Ned was 
up before me, and sitting in the garden sketching 
the ruins of the old castle situate in the adjoining 
meadow. 'Tis a very picturesque ruin, consisting 
solely of the keep ; but being in private hands, we 
contented ourselves with the outside view ; for, as 
Ned suggested, had we been shown over it, we 
should have felt it our duty to "remember" our 
cicerone, which, as the place was a mere shell, 
would have been so much money thrown away.* 

After breakfast, I took a stroll about the town 
with the " Old King," and was much pleased with it. 
It is very pretty, clean, and healthy; all ups and 
downs ; romantically situated, and very bustling and * 
lively ; fine churches, and handsome shops. Cob- 
bett says of it — "The town of Guildford (taken 
with its environs) I, who have seen so many, many 
towns, think the prettiest; and, taken altogether, 

* Old Camden mentions "the ruinous walls of an old 
which has been pretty large." 



the "old king's" faeewell. 197 

the most agreeable and happy looking that I ever 
saw in my life. Here are hill and dale in endless 
variety ; here are the chalk and the sand, vying 
with each other in making beautiful scenes ; here 
are a navigable river and fine meadows ; here are 
woods and downs ; here is something of everything 
but fat marshes, and their skeleton-making agues." 

On our return we were joined by Ned and " My 
Uncle," and after a hearty adieu to Miss Tatham, 
once more set off on our travels, Mr. Oastler and 
"Carlo" accompanying us as far as Newlands 
Corner on the Guildford Downs, entertaining us 
this time with reminiscences of his prison life, and 
vivid, though saddening, sketches of his fellow- 
prisoners. At that point the worthy old gentleman 
bade us farewell, begging us to be assured how 
delighted he was with our visit, and that it 
reflected a cheerful light on the evening of an old 
man's life — 

"For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart, 
And it makes his pulses fly, 
To catch the thrill of a happy voice, 
And the light of a pleasant eye !" 



198 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

Once more thanking him for his generous and 
"royal" hospitality, we shook hands heartily, 
raised our hats as he turned to depart, and then 
plunged down the hill, happier, and I am sure the 
better for having made his acquaintance. I was 
especially glad that Ned had seen and known him. 
I knew he would then appreciate him. He had 
been apt, as is the case with many, to confound 
him and Cobbett together ; and in denouncing 
the latter, to include in their censure the 
"Old King;" whereas, two men of more opposite 
views never existed : and as circumstances have 
caused the mention of both of them in this chapter, 
1 may as well conclude it by distinguishing 
some of their more marked points of difference. 

Cobbett was a Radical — an out and out 
Radical — and a supporter of the Roman Catholic 
Relief Bill of 1829. Oastler is Tory to the back- 
bone, a Protectionist, and a consistent and inde- 
fatigable opponent of Popery. The former would 
exert his influence to the subversion of monarchy* 
the overthrow of the church, and the destruction 



COBBETT AND OASTLER CONTRASTED. 199 

of an ancient aristocracy, having led the people to 
believe that in the anarchy and demoralisation that 
would ensue, they would find their political mil- 
lennium, and the infallible panacea for all their 
wrongs ; whilst the latter devotes his talents and 
energies to upholding and popularising our glorious 
constitution, making the labouring classes content 
with their condition, and convincing them that, in 
rallying round "the altar, the throne, and the 
cottage," is the only safeguard of their liberties, 
their privileges, and their homes. 

The origin of this confusion of the two arises, 
I take it, from their both having been such moving 
spirits with " the people," properly so called. 
Cobbett's writings are specimens of the tersest 
Saxon ; and, I believe, one of Oastler's greatest 
prides is to be said to write like him ; but beyond 
that wonderful capacity of forming and bending 
the public mind, the similarity ceases to exist. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Albury — Shibrb — Wotton — Dorking again — Great Book- 

ham and its church — " the saracen and rlng " 

A Terrible Night— The Tillage Maid — Epitaphs — 
"The Bear" at Esher— One of the Swell Mob. 

From Newland's Corner we descended to the valley, 
chatting pleasantly of the " Old King, " all of us in 
the best of spirits; Mr. Bang being especially 
delighted with our " little political espisode," as he 
called it, vowing that, as soon as he got back to 
Islington, he'd get a portrait of the " Old Boy," as 
he not very loyally styled him, and would read a 
bit of the history of that exciting period with which 
he was associated — and other resolves of a kindred 
and praiseworthy nature. But, alas ! the fickleness 
of human friendship is proverbial; and Mr. Oastler 
having since, in an unlucky moment, in describing 
our visit in a little periodical he then conducted, 
characterised "My Uncle" as a " retired tradesman" 
he having been formerly a partner in a great brew- 



AN UNHUNG INCENDIARY. 201 

ing concern in the West, our insulted relative has 
indignantly repudiated all knowledge of the " Old 
Boy;" and whenever politics are mentioned, 
always, whether appropriately or not, gives his 
opinion that " one Oastler — did you ever hear of 
him? — is the greatest incendiary unhung !" 

In blissful ignorance, however, of this impending 
unhappy change, we went merrily on, and in time 
came to the village of Albury, where is the seat of 
the eccentric Drummond, M.P. We had lunch 
at the inn, which has a very curious taproom, 
the walls being painted in a rough and glaring 
manner (doubtless the work of some village Rubens 
who couldn't pay his score) with representations of 
cricket, racing, wrestling, boxing, and other manly 
sports. Here we had thought of taking beds, and 
spending the rest of the day lounging about the 
surrounding fields and hamlets; but as all their 
rooms were engaged, we thought Shiere, the next 
village, would do as well. The parish church is a 
large building of modern and very ugly style, and 
built of red brick. In the burying-ground I noted 



202 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

the following inscription on the tomb of a little 
child, aged two-and-a-half years : — 

K Oh cruel was the man to plant that tree : 
The fruit that grew thereon it was the death of me. 
Little children, whoever you he, 
Eat not the fruit of the Night-shade tree. 
It was sweet unto my taste — 
I eat and died — now in the grave I rest." 

A little distance on is Mr. Drummond's chnrch and 
chapter house — a very handsome edifice ; so much 
so, that it is called in the Guide Books, " Albury 
Cathedral." Again a little distance, and we reached 
Shiere ; but, on going to the inn, found the 
rooms there were all occupied, it being Saturday, 
when, as they told us, it often happened during the 
autumn that London gentlemen came down for the 
Sunday; and so had to push on for "Wotton. 

It was now getting late, nigh upon seven ; and 
" My Uncle " was showing symptoms of distress, and 
we feared, if unsuccessful there, he might get in a 
temper about it. Ned, I could see, was likewise 
fidgety : he didn't like the contingency of having 
to put up finally at Dorking, both because we had 



AN OLD ADAGE PROVED. 203 

already been there, and because, although a country 
town, 'twas still a town, and he hated towns. How- 
ever, when we did reach the place, there were no 
beds, and, willy nilly, we had to make for Dorking. 
This was, as I expected, too much for " My Uncle." 
He had been on his pins since early morning, and 
he now broke forth with great ire, which rendered 
him perfectly innocent of any knowledge of the 
facetiousness of his expressions, but which my 
enlightened readers will easily detect — " What on 
earth do you take me for? I won't go another 
step; it's sheer aggravation. I wish you were all 
dead and buried !" But when he came round, as, 
under the genial fire and comfort of "The Red 
Lion," he speedily did (proving the truth of the old 
adage, that "he doesn't go out of his way who 
goes to a good inn"), he laughed long at Ned's 
rendering of his speech, and admitted his possession 
of natural materials, which, if properly cultivated, 
would make him a first-rate wit. 

At Wotton, Mr. Evelyn, a descendant of the great 
Evelyn, of the " Diary " celebrity, has a fine old 



204 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

mansion, " standing," as old Camden has it, " among 
several streams gliding through the meadows, adorned 
with gentle risings and woods, which, as it were, 
encompass it," which it was too dark for us to appre- 
ciate ; a remark which must also apply to an ancient 
house called " Milton Court," nigh to Dorking. 

The next day was Sunday ; and breakfast over, 
we shouldered our knapsacks, and set out across the 
fields to Great Bookham, all on " a summer morn- 
ing before the bells did ring," passing through the 
grounds of the Denbies belonging to Mr. Cubitt 
the builder; thence through Eanmer Common, and 
by Polesden, the seat of Sir Walter Farquhar, the 
apostle of temperance, but formerly the residence of 
the celebrated Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the — the 
reverse. We put up at " The Saracen and Ring ;" 
and after an early and excellent dinner, accompanied 
by some wonderfully strong ale, which Mr. Bang 
declared ought to be drank in wine-glasses, and 
which had the effect of making that gentleman 
particularly sleepy, went to church, where we 
had a very sound sermon ; and, if it's not profane to 



GREAT BOOKHAM CHURCH. 205 

say so, saw a remarkably pretty girl in an adjacent 
pew. I trust there is no unpardonable sin in occa- 
sionally having 

"Some fair spirit for one's minister," 
or, with our prayer-books in our hands, fixing our 
eyes on some "thing of beauty who is a joy for 
ever," as "the saint of our deepest devotion," — 
because if so, dear reader, your humble servant is in 
very evil case ! The church is a very nice building, 
and has some very old monuments and inscriptions. 
In the chancel is one to the memory of its founder, 
in old English, which was discovered only a few 
years ago, covered with the eternal whitewash : it 
bears the date 1340. There is also one of the 
earliest tombs of the Effinghams, Dukes of Norfolk, 
and a quaint old epitaph, on a brass plate, recount- 
ing the lineage and virtues of one " John Slyfleete," 
" who was a stout squire, and had the feare of God 
before his eyes," and had departed this transitory 
life a.d. fifteen hundred and something. 

We then strolled to Effingham, as uninteresting, 
dirty, and disagreeable a place as I should have 



206 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

thought one could care to see ; but my com- 
panions perversely thought otherwise (Ned as- 
serting that the recollection of the pretty girl 
prevented my appreciating its beauties), and 
loitered in the churchyard for the best part of an 
hour, listening to the dying echoes of the not very 
melodious voices of a select assembly of devout 
Baptists in a neighbouring cottage. We returned 
home through Little Bookham, which is a shade 
better ; but as the shades of dewy eve were fast 
closing o'er the scene, I do not wish to be considered 
as speaking with any certainty. Soon after tea, Mr. 
Bang, weary and wayworn, betook himself to roost ; 
and Ned — there not being room for him — went to 
the other inn (" The Crown "), while I sat up for 
some time conversing with our host — a fine, handsome 
man, who, it would seem, has travelled over the 
greater part of England, and certainly has picked up 
a great deal of information of one kind or another. 
Being rather curious about the signification of his 
sign, I applied for its elucidation, and was told as 
follows : — During the great war of the Crusaders, a 



THE SARACEN AND KING. 207 

pugnacious ancestor of the present Marquis of 
Downe (who has a large property hereabouts), after 
a deadly contest with a Saracenic chief, succeeded in 
cleaving his adversary's skull, and becoming pos- 
sessed of a ring of great price among other jewels on 
the person of the slain, was permitted to adopt as 
his crest, a " Saracen and Ring," — which our host, 
as a small tribute of respect to " the family," selected 
as the sign of his house.* 

I was never more surprised at finding myself 
" never better in my life " than I was the next 
morning, for a more uncomfortable night I had 
never spent. I did not retire till late ; and having 
put out my candle and got into bed, in a few mo- 

* Genealogical Burke is here at issue with mine host. This 
is his account: — " Sir Wm. Dawney was made a general in the 
fourth of Richard I., at Aeon, where, having slain a Saracen 
prince, and afterwards killing a lion, he cut off the paw and 
presented it to the king, who immediately, in token of appro- 
bation, took the ring off his finger, and presenting it to 
Dawney, ordered, that to perpetuate the event, he should hear 
as a crest a demi Saracen, with a lion's paw in one hand and a 
ring in the other ; and this ring," he adds, "still remains in 
the possession of the family." 



208 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

ments found myself the victim of a misplaced con- 
fidence in a sleepy, fat, no-waist-in-particular speci- 
men of the maid of all work, to whom, on entering 
the house, I had imparted my abomination of a 
feather-bed, and decided partiality for a mattress ; 
and thinking, of course, that she fully understood 
what was wanted, and dinner being waiting for 
me, did not enter into details. Imagine, then, my 
amazement and indignation on the discovery that 
over a mattress, which felt uncommonly like a 
plaster-of-Paris model of some remarkably hilly 
country, was simply spread a sheet, of threadbare 
texture ; no blanket or anything between them. 
The next moment, on stretching myself out, I 
found the hilly country abruptly terminated in a 
deep valley : in other words, that my mattress was 
afflicted with a weakness in the extremities, in con- 
sequence of which my feet were touching the 
ground. Suddenly, in my rage and confusion, I 
imbibed the idea — -just or not — that the sheets were 
damp. I felt the counterpane ! There was no 
doubt — it was as moist as could be ! I had like- 



A COMEDY OF ERRORS. 209 

wise piled over me an immensity of blanket. I 
became hot and excited. Something stung my leg ) 
I jumped up — groped for lucifers — upset the candle- 
stick and water-jug ; and couldn't find them. I 
was frantic, and nearly beside myself. All at once 
I recollected there was an easy chair near the bed. 
I pulled off a blanket, wrapped myself in it, threw 
myself into the chair, and, after a quarter of an 
hour of intense misery, fell asleep, and didn't wake 
till the fat maid came to call me in the morning ; 
when I sprang up, and the blanket falling off, and 
exhibiting me in a very negligee and anything but 
delicate attire, she decamped with wonderful cele- 
rity ; and no amount of calling — though I did till I 
was hoarse, — or of ringing — which I persisted in till 
the rope came off — would induce her to show her- 
self again in the neighbourhood of my apartment ; 
and so, it being six o'clock, and nobody else up, I 
was forced to find my way to the yard, and myself 
replenish, at a most stubborn and imperturbable 
pump, my unlucky water-jug. All things con- 
sidered, I therefore repeat my surprise at having 

o 



210 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

found myself, on the whole, none the worse for it ; 
in fact, in some respects, the better — for I ate a 
tremendous breakfast — but it is certainly not a 
tonic I can conscientiously recommend ! Breakfast 
despatched, " My Uncle " pottered about ; Ned 
examined his accounts and the state of the ex- 
chequer ; while I composed myself to the study of 
Saturday's Times; for the Great Bookham people, 
having an enlightened contempt for your pitiful 
gossips who indulge in " news much older than 
their ale," to their undying honour, subscribe for a 
daily Times, which some " village statesman " reads 
aloud of an evening. 

At eleven we repaired to a field in the rear of 
the premises, where the rival clubs of Great Book- 
ham and Cobham were to measure their skill in the 
manly game of cricket. They were at it all day, as 
we heard; but the playing was very unequal, and 
Great Bookham came off the winner by a large 
score, chiefly owing to the excellent play of two 
gentlemen from Burford Bridge — not to mention 
that of our host, who is celebrated in the annals of 



CRICKET- FIELD GOSSIP. 211 

the pastime. There was a little girl in the field all 
day — of tender years, but very precocious : she took 
a fancy for me, and we chatted away like old friends 
under a shady tree. I learned she was a " native," 
and worked at dressmaking every day, from eight 
in the morning till eight in the evening, with " two 
old maids;" but that on this festive occasion she 
had obtained a holiday. She was very wide awake, 
and made many cutting allusions on the players 
and company generally. 

" Do you see that man with the red braces and 
white cord trowsers ? What do you think we call 
him?" 

That was more than I could say. 

" Why, we call him ' Cockalorum,' to be sure." 

"And why so?" 

" Because he's so cheeky; and I don't know how 
many ladies he hasn't walked out ! " 

I told her I thought he'd better be a quiet fellow, 
like myself. 

" Oh ! " says she, " I dare say you're not so 
quiet, if the truth were known. Your friend in 

o 2 



212 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

the short breeches there is a much quieter chap, 
I'll be bound." 

And on this little thing — and she was pretty too, 
and of course knew it — went talking away of every- 
thing and everybody without restraint, and was only 
just turned twelve ! In a year or two she'll be a 
tremendous flirt, and, if she keeps her good looks, 
will turn the heads of all the young farmers and 
cricketers around. And then I think I shall run 
down to taste that glorious ale again, and get mine 
host to repeat the wonderful legend of " The Saracen 
and Ring." (Oh, of course !) 

At half-past two we were once more footing 
it, and this time to 

" Claremont's terraced height and Esher's groves," 
passing through the villages of Fetcham, Stoke, and 
Oxshott, and over Esher Common. I remember 
somewhere not far from Bookham there was an 
awful wooded common, abounding in concentric 
meetings of innumerable roads, after the pattern of 
the " Seven Dials," and totally destitute of finger- 
posts, where we spent an agreeable hour ("My 



EPITAPHS. 213 

Uncle" vehementer dissentierde) in perpetually losing 
ourselves. In Fetcham churchyard — the church is 
a plain building, but the tower being covered with 
ivy, makes it somewhat picturesque — I copied the 
following inscription : — 

" Th' Almighty from his throne on earth surveys 
Nought greater than an honest, humble heart : 
An humble heart, His residence pronounced — 
His second seat and rival to the skies. 
The private paths, the secret acts of men, 
If noble, are the noblest of our lives." 

Old Izaak Walton gave expression to the same 
thought, when he said, " It seems to me that God 
has two homes — one in heaven, and the other in a 
good and thankful heart, which may God grant to 
me and my honest scholar." At Stoke is the fol- 
lowing, which I noted for its ambiguity of expression : 
it bears date 1810 : — 

" With God together did us guide, 
Tho' we are parted in our prime : 
I hope in heaven wee shall meet 
To enjoy our souls in Saviour sweet." 

Stoke is a very pretty village, and the walk 
thence to Esher across the extensive and gorse- 



2U 



A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 



covered common, and passing the Royal Palace of 
Claremont with its beautifully undulating and 
wooded park, delightful. The first animated being 
we encountered was a majestic and venerable raven, 
which immediately turned back and preceded us to 
" The Brown Bear," drawing innumerable corks by 
the way, as though possessed of instinctive knowledge 
of what our thirsty throats were panting for. 

" The Brown Bear " is a capital inn, prettily 
situated, pretty in itselfj and pretty extensive; and 
the raven's leading us there was a triumph of 
animal sagacity over human reason, for Ned had 
strenuously recommended us to patronise " The 
White Lion," where he had once slept for a week, 
but which is little better than a pot-house, and, 
though kept by respectable people, is far from 
pleasant or inviting. Its charm in Ned's eyes was, 
of course, its cheapness; but Mr. Bang declaring it 
was " cheap and nasty," he was overruled. 

The favourable impression we conceived of " The 
Bear" has since been several times confirmed, as 
Ned and I and a party of friends annually make it 









HOW TO ENJOY THE DERBY. 215 

a half-way house to " the Derby." Our plan is for 
some of us to go down the evening before, and sleep 
there, have a game of quoits, and a ramble on the 
common, and wind up with vingt-un and a glass of 
grog; the rest come down by the first train to 
breakfast, when we fill the large room, and have 
what Ned calls a superb meal ; after which we sally 
forth en masse, and walk across country to the 
Downs ; walk about the course ; see the races and 
all the fun ; walk home again • a heavy tea ; more 
vingt-un ; and back to town and " busy life again " 
the next morning. That's the way to do it. Reader, 
try it : we shall be happy to see you next year, if 
there's room-. But everything has it's drawback, 
and " The Bear " is no exception. The Bear himself 
— I mean the landlord — is a remarkably obtuse, 
obstinate, and obsolete animal ; yet withal obliging 
enough in his way ; a man of few words, and those 
curt ones ; who, as far as my observation extends, 
never goes out of ear-shot of his premises, and 
always has a spud in his hand — I believe he goes 
to bed with it. His wife is likewise of an austere 



216 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

and say-nothing-to-me temperament ; but, worst of 
all, is a bustling little body — a sort of upper house- 
keeper — who was always telling me I mustn't do 
this or that, and must do t'other. She* has also 
peculiar notions as to the hours of a gentleman's 
retiring for the night, and I don't believe any 
consideration would induce her to let any one in 
after a quarter past ten. I well remember one 
night, when, having been spending the evening with 
a friend, who was lodging in the village, I didn't 
return till nigh upon twelve : after knocking at the 
door for a quarter of an hour, the chain was let 
down, and the little woman, in dressing-gown and 
curl papers, and a tremendous rage, backed up by 
an ancient maid (there's no " girls " there, not they), 
with a diminutive remnant of candle, was down 
upon me directly. 

" Oh ! you bad man ; where have you been ? 
You've frighten'd us to death ; we've sent for you 
three times; we've never had such a lodger, and 
we'll never have you again ! Hot water ! no, you 
can't have any hot water ; the fire's been out long 



MRS. "BEOWN BEAR" CAUDLE. 217 

ago; and that's all the candle you'll have — and 
mind you put it outside the door before you get 
into bed '; we shall be having the house burnt down, 
or something. No ! I won't say good night — be off 
with you !" 

But she "means well," and as I never lose my 
temper, it's all serene again before long. 

"Well, as I was saying, we arrived at "The 
Brown Bear," and disencumbering ourselves of our 
knapsacks, having ordered the best the larder con- 
tained for eight o'clock, and Ned having fortified 
himself with a dozen or so of greengages, we pro- 
ceeded to the " "West end," — a most marshy, stink- 
ing, and choleraic locality, compelling me to be 
continually sniffing at my camphor, and, doubtless, 
impressing the inhabitants with the notion that I 
was a gentleman with a disease in my nose, who 
was taking precautions to prevent the loss of that 
member — the losing of which, as Lord Chesterfield 
told his son, had nothing of the romantic in it — to 
get a view of the house where the terrible murder 
had been committed a few months previously. Our 



218 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

morbid curiosity was fully gratified, and we were 
returning amid " the odour and harmony of eve," 
when there appeared approaching us in the distance 
what seemed to be a " fashionable old buck," who, 
on a nearer approach, proved to be a fine, tall, 
portly man of about fifty, beautifully attired in 
blue trowsers, patent boots, blue coat with brass 
buttons, white waistcoat, white tie, nobby hat and 
umbrella, and shirt with a frill. Seeing all this in 
a second with our wonted minuteness of observation, 
we prepared ourselves to make a passing comment 
on the weather, and to wish the elegant stranger a 
" Bon jour, Monsieur" when we were considerably 
startled by his inquiring whether we could "give 
a poor man a penny ; " and on stating our readiness 
and ability to assist suffering humanity to that 
amount, provided a deserving applicant were to 
produce himself, by his avowing with the great- 
est coolness that he was the deserving party in 
question. Not being able "to see that" satis- 
factorily, we announced the intention of self and 
coin to be longer acquainted, and passed on, 






thieves' headquarters. 219 

leaving our begging Brummel swearing most 
inelegantly. 

On inquiry, we learnt that Esher was generally 
infested by tramps and thieves, it being just without 
the limits of some Yagrant Act ; and that, lying 
moreover on the high-road to Portsmouth, the dis- 
charged prisoners from the gaol at Kingston always 
made it their first headquarters, and regularly 
begged it through, to get their hand in again. 

Charming place as Esher undeniably is, I don't 
think, if I had a family of young children exten- 
sively got up, and a grand collection of family and 
modern plate, I should like to rent a mansion in 
that neighbourhood. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Our Last Evening — "My Uncle's" Observations — Ned's 
Grand Speech — Tye's Address — Farewell. 

And now, this being our last evening, it behoved us 
to render it a fitting termination to our pleasant 
fortnight's ramble. Having loitered about the 
precincts of " The Bear" till the last rays of the 
setting sun had bade us good night and gone on 
their way, we adjourned to a comfortable little room, 
where we had ordered a fire, an inviting compound 
of tea and supper, and other mixtures, very pleasant 
to be taken. " The Bear's " fare had been discussed 
with our usual voracity and sociability, when a loud 
rapping on the table, and cries of "hear, hear!" 
from Ned, and "Come, sirs, come!" from "My 
Uncle," warned me that our relative was on his legs, 
desirous of making a few valedictory observations. 
" Come, sirs, come ! I — I — come, sirs, come ! 



all's well that ends well. 221 

— unaccustomed as I am to public speaking — I 
can't allow our trip to come to an end without 
expressing my — ha — hum — my — without — I mean 
— come, sirs, come ! none of that — without saying 
that I — don't think I ever enjoyed myself more, 
on the whole — on the whole,— you know ; because 
I don't mind confessing that now and then, when 

troubles and annoyances — troubles and annoy " 

("Fell thick upon me," suggested Ned.) "Thankee, 
my boy — a friend in need is a friend indeed. I'll do 
as much for you another time — when troubles and 
annoyances fell thick upon me, I did get my monkey 
up a bit ; and there's no knowing what might have 
happened if he'd been thoroughly roused. But, 
however, all's well that ends well ; and for that and 
all other mercies let us be thankful. Come, sirs, 
come ! For my part, I don't think travelling's any 
fun without a bit of a breeze now and then. I don't 
pretend to be such a classic as my nephew, there ; 
but I still know a phrase or two of the old grammar, 
by Jove ! which was knocked into me so precious 
hard, that I don't believe all of it will ever find its 



222 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

way out again, by Jove ! Well, the old book says, 
• Amantium ira amoris integratio est.' 

(Loud cries of hear, hear ! and bravo !) Come 
sirs, come ! I will say — though I hope the hinges 
of friendship may never rust — that I respect the 
man who has the spirit to resent a wrong, and the 
heart to forgive it ! Give us your hands, my lads. 
Come, sirs, come ! Another remark I wish to make 
about travelling is, that a man knows his com- 
panions in a long journey and a small inn ', and 
though people say that two's company and three's 
none, I can tell them that good companions make 
good company. And again, I want to say that 
travelling makes us acquainted with strange bed- 
fellows. I've no wish to be personal; but I 
abominate tea-dealers, and hate grocers — out of 
their shops. I don't think anything could be 
grosser — (Fie ! fie !) — than the insults I've had to put 
up with during our progress; but I trust I main- 
tained my dignity, and that I have the gratitude 
to remember my pleasures, and the sense to forget 
my disappointments. (Bravo !) And now we're 



"come, sirs, come!" 223 

about to break up; and I hope the first evening 
you can you'll come up to my little box, and talk 
over the jolly time we've had. Come, sirs, come ! 
And I hope there may be a good time coming for 
you in your profession, my lads ; and that depressed 
merit may soon be exalted. And I will conclude 
with a toast that I'm sure even Ned will drink in a 
bumper — ' Friendly may we part, and quickly 
meet again !' Come, sirs, come ! Come, sirs, come !" 

Loud applause and a fresh shaking of hands 
greeted "My Uncle" on resuming his seat; and 
then Ned arose, and delivered himself of an 
elaborate and carefully prepared address. Not 
being a shorthand writer, I fear my report will not 
do him justice; but, as far as I can recollect, he 
spoke in this fashion : — 

" My friend and kinsman, — Our last day's stage 

is reached ; the sun is set on our last evening 

ramble ; and our pleasant saunter's over ! 

' While allured 
From vale to Mil, from hill to vale led on, 
We have pursued .... a long 
And pleasant course.' 



224 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

But it is over ; and in another four-and- twenty 
hours ' My Uncle' will be in Exeter Hall, listening 
to the Reverend Jonas M'Growl; Tye will have 
forgotten all this pure and happy time, in the 
absorbing interest of a new and undying attachment 
to some thing in petticoats ; and I alone, faithful 
among the faithless, shall sit and muse of thee, 
Surrey ! — thy lanes, thy fields, thy hamlets, and thy 
hills ! Long, long be my heart with thy memories 
filled ! "When trudging on my daily pilgrimage to 
the Temple — when roaming amid the bolder and 
more striking scenery of Wales or Scotland — when 
gazing on the grand and awful wonders of foreign 
lands — my heart shall beat true to thee ! I will 
think of Mickleham, amid the Tors of Derbyshire — 
of the Valley of the Wey, in the Yale of Tempe — 
and of Leith Hill, upon the Alps ! (Enthusiastic 
applause.) Fifteen peaceful days have we been 
afoot, my friends — 

"and what should hap in these 
But things of common life ?" 

I love the even tenor of country ways ; and I 



SURREY SCENERY. 22-5 

should never have come here, like ' My Uncle,' for 
incidents and episodes ; or, like Tye, for pretty girls 
or flirtations. The face of nature has charms enough 
for me ; and Surrey is so full of beauty — quiet, 
homely beauty — that I should have hoped 'twould 
have been enough for you too. I know no county 
so abundant in bye-roads and footpaths, and pleasant 
bridleways, that lead to places never dreamt of by 
the roadster, and taking you through an infinite 
variety of scenery which would otherwise exist in 
vain — lonely hamlets, and farmhouses, and cottages 
in little orchards; over softly swelling hills, and 
through thick, extensive woods, and now and then 
a bit of wild heath, whence you plunge again into 
woods and lanes. The one thing wanting to make 
it perfect in its beauty is water ("Hear, hear !" from 
Mr. Bang). Truly can I sympathise with 'My 
Uncle.' Often have I thought how the singing of 
the birds, the lowing of the cattle, and the rustling 
of the leaves, would have been enhanced by the 
sound of 'some rejoicing stream;' but Surrey has 
no sea, or river of size, for the Thames, though it 

P 



226 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

touches it, cannot be said to belong to it ; and the 
Wey and the Mole, pretty though they be, are very 
insignificant, and the latter, as we have seen, is in 
some parts of its channel utterly dry " 

" You'll pardon me," here interposed "My Uncle," 
" but if your yarn 's going on much longer, you'll 
be utterly dry yourself; so take the advice of an 
old fellow, and a glass of grog to wet your whistle." 

" I'd rather not," said Ned : " a glass " 

" Confound it, my boy, if you've any scruples to 
the dram, do as the maids do, say ' No,' and take 
it!" 

" You'll excuse me, but I prefer water ; and may 
so pure a beverage be always at hand. But to 
resume : Another great boon which Surrey pre- 
eminently possesses, is good, clean, cheap, little way- 
side inns. (Indignant cries from "My Uncle" of 
" Shiere ! " " Wotton ! " ) Well, our misfortune 
there was an unavoidable contingency ; and I 
should have thought ' My Uncle ' would have 
called it an episode. But there were the inns ; 
and considering it was harvest time, with those 



NED CONTRASTS PRICES. 227 

two exceptions, we never found a village with 
an inn too small or mean to make us happy — to 
give us two or three bedrooms, clean sheets, plenty 
of good bread and butter, bacon and eggs, and thick, 
luscious cream; and — what I did wonder a little 
at — a good cup of tea and coffee. "Who can wish 
for a better and more comfortable little inn than 
' The Beehive,' at Boxhill, with its three good bed- 
rooms, and two cheerful sitting-rooms, and garden, 
fragrant with many a large, rich rose ; and where a 
maiden waits on you instead of a man 1 — (" Hear, 
hear ! " from Mr. Bang.) — ' Mary,' instead of 
' Waiter ! ' (" Hear, hear ! ") You recollect the 
more romantic ' Hare anjl Hounds ' close by, ac- 
knowledged to be such by many a happy couple. 
I wouldn't breathe a word against it ; but its prices 
are at least sixpence a meal and a bed higher than 
at the other, than which they couldn't be better ! 
Time would fail me to sing the praises of the pretty, 
modest inns at Ockley, at Cranley, at Hascombe, or 
the gigantic ' Anchor ' at Liphook — (a sigh for 
"Mary " from self and uncle) — where you're lost in 

p2 



228 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

galleries ere your room be won. Then, again, of 
' The Duke's Head,' at Brockham Green (what duke 
I know not, saving that, though we never halted 
there, I'm sure, by the look of it, it couldn't have 
been Duke Humphrey !), ' The Saracen and Ring,' 
and last — but oh ! not least ! — ' The Queen's Arms,' 
at Selborne, with its excellent roast fowls, its 
hearty, cheery landlord, and charming up-stairs sit- 
ting-room ; with its copy of Bennet's edition of 
' The Book,' and a lovely view from the window 
down towards the Priory Farm. I am afraid I 
am getting wearisome. (" No, no ! ") But I wished, 
while the subject was still fresh, to revive your 
languishing recollections, and, I fear me, town- 
hankering minds. 

" And now for a word or two about the villages 
themselves. The villages of Surrey, and, I may 
add, of Sussex and Kent — for of those counties I 
know most — are altogether different from those in 
the north — in Northumberland, Durham, and Derby- 
shire, for example. In the latter they are little 
towns, a long street of little houses, mostly of bare 



SURREY COTTAGES AND CHURCHES. 229 

stone, and joining one to another, flush upon the 
street, without any court, and too often with dirt in 
front, instead of a garden. But all the Surrey 
villages — I cannot think of one exception — are 
1 scattered.' They consist of cottages, pure and 
simple; and, generally, each stands in a little garden, 
with its necessary patch of vegetables, set off by its 
hollyhocks, roses, and pinks ; with the walls often 
overgrown with creepers — often with a fine old 
grape-vine. Sometimes they stand about and near 
a green, with the church at one corner, and a pond 
or well at the other, and are often mixed up with 
other and better dwellings — farm-houses in their 
yards, and the village shop — and then, in a con- 
spicuous spot, the inn. And finally — for I'm sure 
you're tired now, and I've detected ' My Uncle ' 
gaping once or twice — the Surrey churches are, for 
the most part, very old, and very well worth seeing. 
A pedestrian will never do wrong to go a little out 
of his way whenever he sees a cross in his Ordnance 
map. He will generally find an old church, with, 
it is true, too much patchwork without and too 



230 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

much whitewash within ; a ' grand ' monument or 
two, and a little ivy-covered porch, or bench under 
the wall, to rest him withal ; some old tombstones, 
and some crumbling wooden grave-marks; with 
often a quaint verse, and very often a yew-tree 
that is of date with the church. Who need wish 
to see older yews than those in Hambledon church- 
yard, or at Selborne ? — though that last is in Hamp- 
shire. And now I have done. But I would not 
forget our charming stay at Guildford, where we 
were the subjects of Mr. Richard Oastler's most 
hearty hospitality. The pleasant walks and talks 
we had with that venerable politician, { chattering 
together,' as he himself expressed it, ' not like new, 
but as old friends chatter,' will never fade from my 
mind. I repeat, I have done ; and, as I suppose I 
must conclude with a sentiment, I will give you, — 

" ' The sweet contentment the countryman doth find.' " 

" My friends," said I, as soon as the exhausted 
orator had received the congratulations of his com- 
panions, and had refreshed himself with a pint of 



beauty's champion. 231 

Adam's ale, "I feel it incumbent upon me, after 
the two addresses we have listened to with so much 
pleasure, to offer a few remarks, partly controversial, 
but generally 'in a similar strain.' In the first 
place, I very strongly object to the Chancellor's 
expression, ' a thing in petticoats :' a pretty girl is 
not a thing, but a person. I'm sorry he should 
have read Blackstone to so little purpose ; and I 
object entirely to the animus that inspired him in 
its utterance. I like the country for the country's 
sake to the full as much as he does, but I don't see 
why I shouldn't like a pretty girl too, and why her 
graces and beauty shouldn't enhance the charms of 
the former. I think a 'rustic cottage gate' is very 
pretty, but how much more so if ' over it a maiden 
leans :' no doubt 'comin' thro' the rye,' and 'fra the 
well,' are very pleasant in themselves ; but how much 
pleasanter if accompanied by the soft interchanges 
of ardent affection which ' a body needn't tell ! ' 
Why, all those old singers of rural pleasures whom 
Ned professes so highly to reverence, would have 
been as dumb as stones but for the influence of 



232 A SAUNTER THROUGH SURREY. 

lovely woman. ' When did they ever address a 
flower, a wood, a stream, or a season, but because of 
its connection with their Phillises and Daphnes ? — 
and if you only modernise the ladies' names, it holds 
true still. And although, as you know, I'm very 
anxious to settle in life, yet till that desirable con- 
summation, I hope my friend won't be very shocked 
at the intimation of my intention of taking my fill 
of pleasure whenever I can get it — in the town or 
in the country, in the populous cities or in the 
'untrodden ways ;' and of my hearty adherence to 
the sentiment of Moore, that 

* 'Tis sweet to think that, -where'er we rove, 

We are doomed to find some one still that is dear, 
And to know that, when far from the lips we love, 
We have hut to make love to the lips we are near.' 

I needn't say, of course, that when any young lady 
of sufficient personal (and pursenalf) attractions 
gives me due encouragement, I shall relinquish this 
agreeable pastime, and reserve my embraces for her 
lovely self, or photograph. But, till then, mon- 
seigiieur s' amuse /" 






blue-cap's peroration. 233 

("Bravo!" from "My Uncle;" and "Glad to 
hear it, but don't believe it," from Ned.) 

Having somewhat relieved my mind by this 
championship of the fair sex, and my throat by the 
application of Mr. Pickwick's favourite mixture, 
I proceeded : — 

"Well, as Ned and 'My Uncle' have originally 
and startlingly observed, ' our journey's o'er,' and 
I'm very sorry for it; but all good things have an 
end, and dearest friends must part; — our knapsacks 
will slumber in the lumber-room, and friend Ned's 
old suit will retire into its fitting obscurity until 
the sweet, happy summer returns again, and his ill- 
judging attentions shall once more flaunt it in the 
light of day; — the blue cap will grace the head of 
my gardener's boy, and 'Mary's' doubtful though 
useful compounds yield precedence to the oil of 
Macassar or the bear's grease of Atkinson! I 
really don't know what else I have to say. We've 
had a jolly time of it, and, like the longest lane 
we've loitered in, it's come to an end. It's very 
distressing, no doubt, but I hope we shall survive it. 



234 A SAUTTER THROUGH SURREY. 

And So I will shut up with a toast, of the rapturous 
acceptance of which I have no manner of doubt, — 
1 Our absent friends and favourite girl ! ' " 

(Drunk with enthusiasm.) 

Ned then moved that "My Uncle" and I audit 
his accounts, which we cheerfully undertook ; and, at 
its conclusion, cheerfully divided amongst us the 
sum of nine shillings and sevenpence halfpenny, 
which remained to us out of the £15, after fifteen 
days of as pleasant travel as many persons haven't 
had for treble the money. 

I then proposed that I read my " Journal," pro- 
ducing at the same time a voluminous document, 
which frightened Mr. Bang out of his wits, who, 
declaring he was sleepy enough already, betook 
himself to bed. And so we, too, to roost; and 
the next morning, after an early breakfast, to 
Babylon and law, men-waiters and chimney pots ! 



THE E>T). 



TO 

" T Y E ; " 

ON THE CONCLUSION OP HIS " SAUNTER THROUGH SURBES*. 



Well, friend, your pen is still, your task is o'er, 

And we are sitting now beside the fire, 
Here, in the quiet Temple. Yet once more 

Lean back in the big chair. I never tire 
To think upon the time we spent together — 

To saunter once again from stage to stage 
Through the fair scenes we knew in that fair weather — 

All chronicled in your most merry page. 
Those pleasant, pleasant days ! when but to be 

In the free air, beneath the open sky, 
With hill and wood and field for company, 

Was happiness enough for us. Ah, Tye I 
As I sat by the fire and thought upon it, 
It all came back again ; and so I wrote this sonnet. 

Ned. 



LiJZiiZ J* { 



r :- 



TOPOGRAPHICAL INDEX. 



Albury, 201 
Alton, 148 
Bentley, 160 
Betchworth, 37 
Bookham (Great), 204 
Bookham (Little), 206 
Bourne (The), 128 
Bourne, 175 
Boxhill, 21, 36 
Bramshott, 86 
Brockham, 37 
Brook-street, 73 
Catherine's Hill (St.), 189 
Clap^am, 16 
Claremont, 214 
Cold Harbour, 45 
Cranley, 62 
Denbies, 35, 38 
Devil's Punchbowl, 70, 75 
Dorking, 44, 203 
Effingham, 205 
Empshott, 105 
Epsom, 18 
Esher, 214 
Ewell, 16 
Ewhurst, 61 
Farnham, 164, 174 
Fetcham, 212 



Godalming, 193 
Greatham, 105 
Guildford, 178, 196 
Hambledon, 66 
Hascombe, 65 
Haslemere, 77 
Hind Head, 77 
Hog's Back (The), 175 
Holmesdale, 50 
Leatberhead, 19 
Leith Hill, 47 
Liphook, 86 
Lo wesley, 192 
Martha's Hill (St.), 181 
Mickleham, 31 
Mole (The), 35 
New] and' s Corner, 197 
Nor bury, 31 
Ockiey, 52 

Ramner Common, 204 
Selborne, 110 
Shiere, 202 
Shottermill, 85 
Stoke, 212 
Westhumble, 31 
Whitley, Q6 
Woolmer, 100 
Wotton, 203 






LONDON : PETTER AND GALfIX, LA BELLE SAtJVAGE YARD, LCDGATE HILL, 






